#its not cute or radical or revolutionary

[woman-respecter]

eh, I'm kind of tired of the relentless promotion of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood as feminist when all those female characters exist in relation to men, and that was the message I felt it sent to me: women are great but only if they don't forget their place. Those women are just better written than most because the original mangaka is a woman, but I've read a lot of Arakawa's stuff and it feels like she's really into this kind of promotion of traditional women in a way that has its pluses in showing how fully-faceted those women are, but never seems to really question those roles in a larger sense. I get why it appeals to people but I wouldn't exactly call it "feminist."

(I also have longstanding beef of how people use that to excuse the really fucked up messages about race in that show/manga, especially to dump on the original FMA anime which does that aspect much much better and whose female characters felt a lot more genuinely independent to me, but whatever. Neither is a bastion of feminism lol and don't want to make this about fandom beef)

It's also not necessary because there are a lot of anime that are outspokenly feminist and center women. Revolutionary Girl Utena being the obvious one, and got me through the 2016 election aftermath with episodes like when Utena beats Touga after he defeats her the first time, showing how women can triumph eventually even when the odds are wholly stacked against us. And it has a really probing analysis of the patriarchy and heteronormativity woven throughout the whole show.

A whole bunch of magical girl anime (not the entire genre, some suck and are made for gross dudes, but a lot of them, especially the 90s ones are aimed at women - Sailor Moon and Cardcaptor Sakura etc). Sayo Yamamoto's stuff that isn't Yuri on Ice - not that that show isn't great and gay and cute and doesn't say interesting things in its occasional one-off subplots about women, but it's obviously focused on men. But people who liked it who want great women-centric stuff should watch her Lupin III: The Woman Called Fujiko Mine and Michiko and Hatchin, both centered on women and very feminist in their themes, albeit in a way that requires you to pay attention and think and watch the whole show so you occasionally get Tumblrites without reading comprehension missing the point of them. I was really surprised, given the kind of trashy title, by the anime Maria the Virgin Witch, which is all about fighting patriarchal ideas about sex in fantasy medieval Europe. Also, Yurikuma Arashi by the same creator as Utena is a really good analysis of the ways that lesbians are portrayed in Japanese media and by the broader patriarchy.

For as much misogyny as there is in anime, the stuff that does engage with feminism can often be pretty radical and smart and does it better than you'll see in a lot of other media. It's like having that low hum of misogyny in the medium as a whole builds up a rage in some of its creators that just explodes in the stuff they make. Same with how it often engages with queer themes, tbh.

And then there's just that anime has a lot more female-character-centered stuff even if it isn't "feminist" exactly. Like stuff about women where the story and world is centered on women that you can just put on as a comfort watch. Love Live or something lol

you do bring up a good point about fma, i kinda forgot about that bc i watched it like a decade ago. rgu is really great and i defo recommend it even tho it was directed by a man. yurikuma is actually my fave anime of all time but does seem sexist and fan servicey on the surface. and i love love live and the other cgdct anime but it feels like there is always an underlying misogyny of that genre, knowing how the male fans and creators are. if i were to recommend a comfort watch i would go with k-on bc it has a female director.

thanks for the recs!

[blachernaepalace]

The CPME statement also cautioned the Palestinians that no matter what al-Fateh might be accomplishing through its violent actions, it was actually serving the interests of imperialism and the Arab ruling classes, not the Palestinian masses. It was ridiculous for anyone to think that the Arabs were fighting a national liberation struggle in the usual sense. Revolutionary Arab nationalism merely diverted the Arab world’s attention away from American imperialism. The statement called on al-Fateh to halt guerrilla warfare against Israel and instead focus on “redirecting that struggle internally in Arab lands.”

A few months later, the CPME issued a statement inviting students to attend a meeting on the evening of May 15, 1969, titled “Does Israel Have the Right to Exist?” The statement echoed some of the CPME’s positions, particularly in affirming Israel’s nationhood and urging the Left not to be a partisan of either side but instead work for the reconciliation of both Israeli and Palestinian rights, not support the defeat of one side or the other. Turning to campus events, the CPME statement then scored the Radical Student Union for endorsing Palestine Week without demanding that Arab students recognize Israel. The statement ended by noting that the Middle East situation was complex and required “study and thought,” not “cute” resolutions issued so that students could prove “they’re really ‘with third worlders.’”

The Movement and the Middle East: How the Arab-Israeli Conflict Divided the American Left by Michael R. Fischbach

[anthonybialy]

Power Switch

Everyone cheers for the underdog.  Who doesn’t loves an unexpected victory from a BCS school over a powerhouse?  Amateur viewers figure the team bookies give points must be downtrodden.

But football doesn’t always reflect the rest of life even aside from how most humans can determine what a catch is.  Take how a war team some cheer on wouldn’t quite inspire with an unexpected win.  Sometimes, the plucky long shot faces such a vast spread because it spends its hours practicing mass homicide instead of how to leave the Stone Age.  Terror movements don’t enjoy the simplest amenities.  The Miracle on Ice has been replaced by treating ice as a miracle.

Hamas is the latest adopted pet for leftists far removed from the butchering.  There’s no chance their personal blood will stain sidewalks, which makes backing human annihilators easy.  Making atrocious idiots siding with villains intellectually uncomfortable is the closest they’ve ever come to facing consequences.

Iran’s unit for making the respectable world as miserable as their primitive theocracy is nothing but an imitation of a ’70s-style people’s army.  You’ll never guess who’s joined the booster club.  Cheering against America comes naturally for citizens who love everything about it but all the stuff.

The horrid fad epitomized by fondness for the Viet Cong has reemerged in an alternate form rampaging through the area’s only nice neighborhood.  Jane Fonda desperately wants to launch a Hamas rocket.

Worshiping Che embodies awfulness perceived as cute by commies who never had to suffer under it.  A goon who lost every fair fight he ever waged was as clumsy a mass murderer as Hamas.  And he hated gay people about as much.  Trying to tear down the successful in a more literal way than taxing them to oblivion won’t stop rich leftists from finding their saint stirring.

Columbia University serving as a hive of Jew hatred even by disgraceful Ivy League standards is a particularly appalling throwback from the more august parts of Manhattan.  Tom Wolfe’s spirit strolls through the borough’s fancier enclaves as radical chic flourishes despite his dismantling of it.  The dedication to wretched causes by those in the cushiest positions is reminiscent of the most stylish grossly embracing Black Panther cop-murderers.  Supporters of the wrong directional Germany never grasp that history is nothing more than noticing patterns.  It’s also why they get biology wrong.

A fondness for any of the ‘70s terror gangs is making the worst sort of retro throwback comeback.  Hamas is badder than Baader-Meinhof not just in bloodlust but because of precedent.  Anyone who’s paid attention knows just how diabolical the destructors are, which counts out their cult.  Pursuing ghastly leftist nonsense in the most horribly homicidal manner possible is how wealthy hypocrites apologize for unearned wealth.

Consistency is not to be praised for the dreadful.  Make no mistake that Hamas enthusiasts were 100 percent the same ones claiming America deserved it as rubble smoldered on September 11.  The only thing more disgusting than siding with those opposed to life itself is who their terror pals attacked.  Massacred Israelis are as disrespected by apologists for monstrosities as World Trade Center office workers.  Standing against everything decent is unfortunately timeless.

Embracing criminals only happens figuratively, as connoisseurs of leftist insurgent violence would never appear anywhere rendered unsafe by their beliefs.  You’d think they might want selfies with their beloved team’s favorite players.

It’s so romantic to think revolutionary struggles are adorable in nobility aside from the corpse piles.  Rallying for the allegedly disenfranchised should begin by determining whether they’re oblivious to how many innocents minding their own business have been slaughtered by their potential heroes. 

Aside from not being able identify who actually struggles, their moral compass points accurately.  It takes a few moments of observation to determine who’s really oppressed, namely Israel.  Sick cheerleaders for subversion think the actual religion of peace with a sliver of global population on a sliver of land surrounded by medieval barbarian fanatics who want to obliterate it for the crime of existing are the ones with power.

Cheering for terrorism from afar surely pairs a lack of empathy with selfish delusion.  It’s not like someone’s going to fly into any concert they attend and remove their heads from the rest of their bodies.  That’s unless terrorists could walk right over an open American border or there’s some way of attacking via flying.

Rich liberals are insulated from the worst of their pet domestic policies, as well, which makes the way they inflict the opposite of helping even more aggravating.  Proles they profess to help end up suffering from inflation and inflated minimum wage.  And wealthy virtue signalers can afford tuition despite government making it unobtainable for many as part of its drive to make it obtainable.

Admiring the Third World while enjoying the benefits of the First is one way to cope with guilt.  Trappings are wholly unearned, of course.  Mooching is their way of life.  It’s no wonder they sympathize with people’s republics no matter the style.  The society is so prosperous that even the uselessly ungrateful can enjoy opulent living.  Even Joe Biden can’t tear down affluence despite destruction being his sole skill.

Chaos enablers will be glad to learn their debate foe.  Seeing life as nothing more than a matter of who has power is also how Donald Trump approaches life.  The self-professed strongman reflexively cheers for whichever side he thinks has the most, which is on the same terms as vacuum-dwellers who cheer for whichever side they think has the least.  Plant a thought they deserve.

There’s a rather simple test for who is good.  Check to see if your side behead babies for the crime of being Jewish.  If so, you may want to shred your membership card.  Progressives cheered because they thought Planned Parenthood’s Gaza branch pioneered concierge service.

Maintaining ignorance offers common ground between terrorists and their aloof proponents.  Israel’s attackers seem afflicted only because they choose to attempt demolishing those who spent their time building buildings.  The group fashioning rockets out of pipes literally tears apart civilization to attack one.  Lack of clout stems from their adherence to heinous crudeness.

The best way to make fewer humans appear persecuted is to stop implementing Democratic policy goals.  Class warfare is nothing more than aggressive jealousy.  Israel’s fiendish foes are powerless because they refuse to live in a republic with members of a religion blamed by losers for every ill for as long as it’s existed.  Depressed Blue States are the equivalent of a two-state solution.  Choosing to live in multiple types of poverty leads to support from those who condemn being rich while giving up no riches.  Life gets worse for the worst allies.

[electrificata]

Here is what i have been listening 2 lately yes im avoiding something no i dont listen to a lot of """new""" music

"This corrosion" the sisters of mercy - nothing revolutionary here, its a goth (sorry eldritch) classic with the big stupid jim steinman bombast that i love. If you want a good time search "andrew eldritch interview" on youtube, he's a huge bitch its so funny

"My lady of mercy" the last dinner party - a cute fizzy indie pop song that splits open into huge, triumphant stoner rock choruses. Its my understanding this band has weathered "industry plant" rumors despite being like, not. Anyway if industry plants made shit like this id be ok w the concept

"Kybalion" killah priest - my friend sold this wu tang associate to me by saying a) he's into the occult, b) not sure if he's actually any good, c) hes making animal noises on the new album. "Hermes trismegestis of lyrics that specialize in physics and pyramids" literally what else do i have to tell you

"Blood makes noise" suzanne vega - i love when a singer songwriter chick has one hard track on her album and this one sounds urgent and clanging and ominous im having a great time

"You aint no celebrity" jungle - everybodys losing their shit over "back on 74," and rightfully so, but this is the ass shaker on the album, its like an update on all those 2000s sean paul hits i liked before i heard at too many bar mitzvahs (it actually knicks the buzzing theremin from "get busy," which was always better than "temperature")

"Naked eye" luscious jackson - 90s crunchy touchy feely divine feminine radical vulnerability nonsense

"Come together" primal scream - these guys were kind of narrowly revolutionary in the 90s and i dont hear anybody under 40 talk abt them ever but i loooove the early 90s uk "what if classic rock was dance" shit that was happening with them and i guess kind of madchester?

"Obsession" animotion - this is the loud obnoxious goofy 80s pop hit all the other ones want to be. The boy-girl vocals are really fun BONUS the singers fell in love and are still married, go look up a recent performance of this song theyre so old and so horny for each other i love it

"The big sky" kate bush + "chains of love" erasure - two very different 80s pop classics, but i listen to them the same way, and frequently right after each other. I have a theory of art and fiction i call, for the moment, "mythological awareness." I use this to refer to work that knows what old folkloric/mythological/archetypal symbols and narratives and images it evokes. Work that knows that any love story is every love story, every mad scientist is a wizard and a shaman and a hacker as well. Kate is singing about the things we pay attention to as children and forget as adults, the sky is a marvel its easy to forget about because its there every day, but that doeant mean its any less a marvel. This might be the most straightforward u2-ish rock single bush ever put out, but it feels like shes marching at the head of an army of zeppelins and airplanes and rockets powered by the laughter of gods. Andy bell of erasure is singing about a fictionalized pre-aids era of gay utopia like its something that used to be real and can be real again if we all clap our hands. He details a world of "sisters and brothers" open to the pleasures of the world, fucking and loving and worrying about what theyll do for dinner rather than whether they can get into the hospital to watch their loved ones die. And over an unstoppable synthesizer bounce, falsetto floating over clouds of gospel-inflected backing vocals, you believe him. He could be talking about atlantis or hobbitton or erewhon or the greek age of heroes and he knows that, the halcyon past is a myth none of us can get away from, maybe we need to understand it and use it rather than disavow it. I was born years after both of these songs hit, and my parents didnt listen to either of these artists, so they come to me fresh and bright and veiled in the light obscuring mist of morning, for me and no one else (everyone else)

[crowleyellestair]

Could you write a Geralt x healer!reader where she is tagging along with Geralt & Jaskier. Over the time she has spent tending to his wounds and on occasion, saving him, Geralt begins to develop feelings for her but he doesn’t understand them (obvs) so he pushes it aside. But on one particularly awful part of their trek, she falls through some ice and plot twist! He has to save her now. The terror he feels when seeing her so close to death makes him realise what she means to him🥺

AN// Had fun writing this!! Let me know if you want a part 2!

Masterlist

 Jaskier was the one to convince Geralt that she would be a great asset to their team. The Witcher could hear the bard’s voice ringing in his head as he sat there in silence. His chin was laying on his clasped hands that were propped on his knees. Geralt hadn’t left that spot in roughly a day and he was willing to stay for as long as he needed to. He scolded himself, hating that his mind replayed the bards voice on loop.

“The Dynamic Duo turned Terrific Trio,” was said with as much gusto as Jaskier could muster. Geralt had rolled his eyes at the comment, but didn’t disagree. Jaskier was known to leave him for periods of time to focus on monopolizing the music community in any given area. Geralt had just assumed at the time that the same would be said for Y/n. He knows now that that was a fatal mistake.

He had been convinced she wouldn’t be a burden as their first encounter had involved her saving him. It was a ‘wrong-place-worst-time’ scenario that she had quite literally walked into. Y/n had left the apothecary through the back door and into a skirmish that was forced onto the man. Some radical townsfolk had thought it wise to try and pick a fight with the ‘abomination’ known as Geralt, and normally he would have been fine. But it was seven against one in hand to hand combat. Geralt couldn’t use a weapon to dispatch them, as that would fuel the rest of the town to take arms against him as well. He had taken out five, but the sixth member was really sucking his attention.

The woman had walked into their fight, the ruffian pushing her out of the way and onto the ground. Geralt gave a look, showing that using force against her had pushed a moral line of his. He laid a hit directly on the man’s nose, and he stumbled back far enough for Geralt to turn to finish off the last man. Y/n had regained her bearings, and noticed the sixth wasn’t completely taken care of. He quietly stalked up behind the Witcher, pulling out a small shive. Geralt had taken care of the last man, but she knew he wouldn’t turn fast enough to catch the aggressor. She jutted her leg out in front of the radical, effectively tripping him. He let out a loud gasp and he threw the knife rom his hand to safely catch himself. Geralt had finished him off before giving a silent look towards her.

They had stayed there in silence for a moment, Geralt breathing heavy and looking down at his surprise savior. She rolled her eyes before pushing herself off the ground.

“No, thank you for needing help.” Her hands went down to pat the dust and dirt off her pants. She let out a soft curse as she swung her satchel forward, taking inventory and praying none of the vials had gotten broken. Geralt just watched with a quirked brow before releasing a mechanical and awkward,

“No, thank you?” Her gaze snapped to him, giving a genuine, humor filled smile.

“You’re welcome. Safe travels.” She gave a halfhearted, friendly salute before walking away. Jaskier had pushed himself from his hiding spot, clearly and loudly criticizing the warrior.

“Geralt, that was plain rude. Even a cute girl can’t get you to show gratitude. You truly are lost sometimes.” Geralt had given a displeased, guttural noise in response.

 They had met again when he was given the task to liberate a small camp from a horde of wraiths. It was a few towns over, about a month from when they first met. He had been outnumbered tenfold, and when it seemed that he was exhausted and losing, a loud crash could be heard. His amber gaze raked the floor, finding four broken vials and a material quickly going airborne. He held his breath, but the odd shimmer was all too familiar. At first, he was impressed, thinking it was the bard who had come to aid, but when he turned to find the woman from before, he was taken aback.

His surprised gaze was met with an expecting one, and when he didn’t move, he finally heard the melodic voice that he couldn’t let go since the first encounter.

“Are you going to finish them off, or did I throw those in vain?” He had shifted immediately into action, swinging his sword and delivering fatal blows. He had sheathed his weapon as she approached with two empty vials in hand. She crouched down, gathering wraith dust in them, before straightening and meeting his gaze again.

“Why are you here?” He was confused at her innocent gaze and gesture to the vials. She had shown knowledge of dispersing dark creatures, and yet, she stood before him with purity in her eyes. She shrugged as her nonverbal reply didn’t receive a continuation of conversation.

“I didn’t think there would be twenty, I thought there would be like two. I was planning on using the bombs, pierce them with my sword, then collect the remains. I need it to help relieve a boy who caught yellow fever. I’m a healer, you see.” He gave a hum of acknowledgement and he started to walk back into the direction of town. When she followed, he gave only a questioning side glance. “Well, we both need to get back to town, so why not walk together? I didn’t catch your name before.” It was a fib, as she had heard Jaskier that day, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“That’s because I didn’t give it.” He was being honest, but quickly felt a tinge of guilt, as the phrase is usually used in a dismissive and rude context. She scoffed, and he gave her another side glance.

“Okay, that’s a little much. Heroes shouldn’t be shown such an attitude, but I’ll let it slide, Bartholomew.” Geralt fully looked to her, eyes furrowed. She matched his gaze with a playful smile. “Well, I need to call you something. Especially since it seems like you are my personal ‘damsel in destress’.” He looked forward, but after a moment, a quiet “Geralt,” passed his lips.

Her smile grew and gave a curt nod of content. They walked in a comfortable silence back to town, Jaskier waiting for his friend right outside of the tavern for his friend to return. When his gaze fell on Y/n, he looked to Geralt and smirked.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely lady you failed to fully thank from before.” He grabbed her hand, bringing it up to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Let me give you thanks for him- tenfold because of the delay.” She laughed, but Geralt was surprised to find the usual blush women had to the bard’s tactics was missing from her cheeks. It seemed to him that she genuinely found Jaskier’s attempts funny. She dropped her hand, and smiled.

“Charming, but I’m going to have to pass.” She gave a polite and small bow to the bard. She turned to bid them a farewell, when Jaskier’s voice shrilled out of worry and surprise.

“Geralt, you’re hurt- how’d you get hurt?” Y/n’s gaze shot up to meet the man’s, before looking him over. Her brows drew in confusion, but she then stalked to the other side of him and lifted his arm. Her brows flew and her hands started pressing and prodding, trying to assess the damage. Gently dropping his arm, she gripped his wrist.

“Follow me back to my tent, I can patch you up.” She looked down; her next expression spoken in a hushed tone. “Why didn’t you tell me after I mentioned I was a healer?” Geralt threw a glare at Jaskier who shrugged, but returned a stern look. When Geralt looked back to the woman, who was solely absorbed in his injury, his gaze slightly softened.

She had never marveled or spat at the fact that he was a Witcher. Anyone who dare call themselves a healer knows about Witchers. They were born of magic, science and pharmaceuticals and revolutionary to the world of alchemy. Nothing she said was ever borne of awe or disgust. The only things to fall out of her mouth were friendly jests and inquiries. Even Jaskier wasn’t passive about Geralt’s true nature.

And since they first met, he hadn’t forgotten those facts.

So, when he caught his gaze softening, he was confused. This was the second time they had met, and the man had already lost self-control over his expressions around her? Geralt thought it uncomfortable, to say the least. His gaze hardened again, explaining,

“I don’t need help. I’m a Witcher.” Her gaze shot back to his again with an unconvinced and uncaring look.

“I can see that. The wound is deep- I won’t make you pay if that’s what you’re worried about.” That too confused him more, making him try to dissociate from the situation.

“I heal faster than humans. I’ll be fine.” He watched as she rolled her eyes and dropped his writ. Y/n planted her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest.

“Fine. I am looking to hire a Witcher to escort me back to my tent. As I am a healer, the only payment I can give is tending to wounds.” He squinted his eyes, the only reaction he could muster from the confusing emotions swirling inside.

“I decline. There is no danger here.” She leaned in, matching his squint with one of her own.

“I heard wraiths were running rampant in these parts.”

“Luckily for you, I just took care of the horde. You should be safe getting to your destination.”

“Unlucky for both of us, you didn’t let me finish. I heard men were also quite despicable here, just like every adjacent town. I heard you had a run in a month ago, so you should understand where a simple woman, like me, is coming from.” Geralt was impressed- and so was Jaskier for that matter. He didn’t know how, but this was definitely worming its way into a song or poem.

 Geralt hadn’t known that, when she successfully convinced him, he would be convinced again and again for the following year. After Jaskier’s suggestion on their third run in, Y/n stayed with the boys to travel. Geralt often gave up his bed roll for her or let her come along to hunts without argument only because he just did. He simply let it happen. He didn’t know why or when it started, but he never thought about doing it when he made these decisions. Geralt seemed to stop thinking when she was around, and all he had left were his instincts. It seemed to him that instincts said to bathe her with temporal affection. He hadn’t tried- no, hadn’t wanted to dwell on the meaning behind the instincts. He had reflected on how it never got to the extreme level it was at, ever with Jaskier. And he was sure Jaskier would be jealous if he really knew how much Geralt spoiled Y/n, in his own way, of course. The only other person to make him have this effect was… Yen. But he constantly thought about his feelings with Yennifer, and how if they did stay together, it would be too toxic. It would implode at any second, and Geralt didn’t have the inner strength to go through that.

Time and time again, Y/n saved Geralt in more ways than one. She would help out when he found himself stuck in battle, she would tend to his every wound, and she would keep him company even if all they did was sit in silence. He had just assumed that this was the making of a true friend, and he never dwelled on it passed that line of logic.

The trio had split up earlier in the week, Jaskier staying in Aar Carraigh. Y/n was planning on travelling to Aedd Gynvael, a fort close to Kaer Morhen, so they could continue traveling once winter had passed. The fort wasn’t too far past Kaer Morhen, so Geralt had offered to escort her there safely, especially since the terrain was treacherous. It was only a week into winter, but since they were so far north, ice and snow covered everything the eye could see. The only way to the fort from Aar Carraigh, where they had dropped the bard off, was to pass over Gwenllech River.

It was complete ice, and the crossing bridge was too far out of the way to get to in a timely manner. The two were doing great until something hit the ice from under them.

“What could have possibly done that?” Y/n’s tone was short and tense. Her arms were held out for balance, and her feet splayed. Her eyes were pinned to Geralt, who was trying to decide what it was. Sadly, he couldn’t come to a conclusion.

“It doesn’t matter. We only have a couple feet left.” She nodded and took a step towards the other side. The ice ratted again, and to keep her balance, she had to slide back, out of Geralt’s reach. From this pressure from under, the ice began to crack. Geralt knew he’d be fine on his own, but Y/n would need to carefully pass over the unsafe terrain. While he was confident in her, he wsn’t confident in the surface. He couldn’t pass to help her as one pass could break the ice, and they wouldn’t be able to get back over. Or, if it was structurally sound then, both of their weight passing over it surely would send them into the water. Gwenllech wasn’t known to be a passive body, and there most likely was a fierce current.

It seemed to the Witcher that Y/ had realized she was on her own by the look of terror on her face. She swallowed hard and looked down to the cracks. Geralt reached an arm out in a comforting way while trying to meet her gaze.

“Look to me, and only me. It will be easier that way.” She nodded with her eyes closed and took a deep breath. Her eyes, which the Witcher had grown quite fond of, instantly found his. She didn’t lift her feet off of the surface, slowly and gently making shuffling movements to close the distance.

Geralt hadn’t blinked- he wouldn’t dream of breaking the eye contact, but in a second she was gone. His gaze dropped just a hair too slow to find her body disappearing under the ice. Luckily, she had known to throw her arms up, instead of trying to catch herself. He was there in an instant, his hand piercing the water’s surface, and grasping her outstretched hand. He pulled her out as fast as she went in, but it was enough to have the ill of winter set in her bones. Being closer to Kaer Morhen, he simply brought her there.

Eskel would pop in every hour to check on Geralt in his quarters, but Geralt refused to leave the room. So, they sat and chatted, the brunette trying to get the significance of the girl out of the ashen haired one. Geralt saw Eskel as a brother, but he had yet to figure it out himself, only telling him it was complicated. Lambert had caught that end, pestering him, trying to understand if it was like the Yennifer situation.

Geralt had felt sour discussing the witch with Y/n in the room. The only emotion he could pin it closest to would be guilt. But why would he feel guilty? It wasn’t lost on him that she went out of her way to tend to Geralt’s every need. He was sure that if he were to receive a paper cut, she would still give him full treatments. Y/n had a pure heart, treating everyone to the best of her abilities, but it had never reached the level it had with anyone else. She would help Jaskier with blisters and callouses from playing his lute for too long, but he knew that if Jaskier would receive a paper cut, she would probably jest, and go they’d all about their day. Jaskier knew this too, constantly giving him nudges and suggestive shoulder or brow raises when Y/n would do something that qualified as ‘cute’. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t done something that qualified as that because she did- every damn day, just by being herself.

Friends could think the other is cute, dote on their every movement, and instinctively give them all the other had to offer, right?

Right?

Fuck.

 When Y/n had woken up, the first thing to catch her eyes were the wall to wall decorations. Different skulls and pelts were found littering every space of them. She would most likely find it off putting if her senses weren’t being berated by her favorite scent: Geralt. It was leather, metal and celandine flowers. Most wouldn’t assume that from a Witcher, but he was constantly around them as they were ingredients for a lot of the potion’s Y/n would make for him. They didn’t have an overbearing or really distinct scent; she was only familiar since she worked so closely with it. Y/n wouldn’t have it any other way, being convinced that no other scent would match him best.

When she shifted to her elbows, her eyes continued to inspect the place. She sort-of jumped in place when she spotted the crown of white hair at the base of the bed. Geralt hadn’t been facing her, and had settled on his knees to meditate. She felt bad, assuming this was his room. The only place he ever really considered a permanent home. And she was taking up his bed. Y/n pushed out to find that she wasn’t wearing her clothes. A Geralt-size shirt hung low enough to cover her small clothes. A blush crept up her neck, and she looked to the bed. The only disturbance was where she left from the middle of the bed. There was a mountain of blankets and a fire raged in the corner of the room in a small hearth. The moments before her passing out rushed to her, and it all fell into place.

Walking in front of Geralt, but a few paces out of reach, she called to him. She had learned that touching him or being too close alarmed him, as all he could process was something disturbing him. And while he didn’t have a ‘swing first, ask questions later’ mentality, it would still be jarring.

His amber eyes opened to her, and it immediately raked up and down her form. She thought she made it up when she heard a faint grunt of approval, but he small smile that graced him when their eyes met, told her otherwise.

Y/n felt her stomach drop when his smile wiped from his face. He felt that twinge of guilt again seeing her tense, but it suddenly came across Geralt that somehow, he would have to tell her his feelings.

Fuck.

 Part 2 is up - Called Geralt's Problem

[khaleesiofalicante]

Of the Bane Chronicles, I think the Runaway Queen is my least favourite. Magnus is just so uncaring of the revolution, even helping the royals (granted that is because of a cute guy, but still). It kinda leaves a bad taste in my mouth just cause it was so inportant, and those people were starving to death, and Magnus is just like, "meh, wish it didn't affect my fun" Like I love Magnus, but this one story was not it for me.

*rolls of up sleeves*

I knew studying the french revolution for two years of high school would come in handy one day!!!!

Runaway Queen is actually my least favorite too. But it wasn’t because of Magnus’ attitude towards the revolution. I felt that the story contributed least to his overall personality and character arc. It was a little boring to be entirely honest. 

But actually annie, I don’t think Magnus is to be blamed here. Of course, this is a subjective opinion. 

The thing about the French Revolution is that the sans-culottes (the lower class people who turned into radicals and led the revolution) were actually pretty fucking scary. I mean, the monarchy was a fucking joke and they had to seize power. But their methods (again subjective) were extreme and radical. 

Now I know Magnus is a powerful warlock, but remember that he is a person of colour. It wouldn’t have been easy for him to join the revolution or lead or or help it. And he is a warlock. While the monarchy and aristocracy found his warlock abilities sexy and fun and hired him to do dumb shit, I don’t think the lower classes would have reacted the same way. These communities still very much believed in evil and witchcraft and would have executed Magnus if they knew about his identity. 

One of the defining traits of the french revolution was that it was chaotic. It was not organized (like the russian revolution - where they had proper leaders and doctrines to follow) and there was much uncertainty. Literally no one knew what the fuck was going on and they were all winging it. So, I think it was sensible of Magnus to stay away. 

Yes, he did save the queen but that doesn’t mean that he supported the aristocracy. He mainly did for a cute boy lmao and I think he also did it because he knew the queen would be killed otherwise. Altho she was horrible and dumb and useless, I don’t she deserved to be executed. Maybe Magnus felt the same way. 

But you are right. We cannot ignore the fact that Magnus knee deep in the aristocratic lifestyle. He was going to all the rich parties and making friends in high places and living the life. I don’t blame him for it. 

I think when you are immortal, you need to choose your battles - literally. It’s a little unfair to expect him to intervene into every mundane revolution or war or even shadowhunter debacle and save the day. It’s not his responsibility. 

So, even though he was apathetic towards the revolution and didn’t really do anything about it - I think he still cared for the people who suffered. Magnus is inherently kind and he would have helped anyone who asked for it. So, the queen could have easily been a poor peasant boy (whether there was a cute guy involved or not) and Magnus would have still helped him (as he helped so many people in the other stories of tbc)

PS - The following paragraph from the story sort of summarises this from Magnus’ POV :)

His feelings about the revolution were mixed. People were hungry. The price of bread was still very high. It did not help that the queen, Marie Antoinette, when told that her people could not afford bread, had suggested that they eat cake instead. It was sensible to him that the people should demand and receive food, and firewood, and all the basic needs of life. Magnus always felt for the poor and the wretched. But at the same time, never had there been a society quite as wonderful as that of France at its dizzying heights and excesses.

 And while he liked excitement, he also liked to have some sense of what was going on, and that feeling was in short supply. No one quite knew who was in charge of the country. The revolutionaries squabbled all the time. The constitution was always being written. The king and queen were alive and supposedly still somewhat in power, but they were controlled by the revolutionaries. 

Periodically there would be killings, fires, or attacks, all in the name of liberation. Living in Paris was like living in a powder keg that was stacked on top of several other powder kegs, which were in a ship tossing blindly at sea. There was always the feeling that one day the people—the undefined  people —just might decide to kill everyone who could afford a hat.

[endlessandrea]

I would like to read all of this as revenge, though for Serpas the long shadow of ruin that fell across the world from Europe has a certain charisma. Especially when it’s the only show in town. In an interview with Ravelin magazine, Serpas is cute and rapacious, basically perfect: “I’ve never been to Europe; I wanna see where the shitshow stems from. Also, I’m ready to take all their money.”As the texture of apocalypse has been re- imported by its primary exporters (Europe, America), there’s no more need, if there ever was, for the elaborate mediations with which art used to contribute to decorating the slaughterhouse: “nothings abstracted / in the end times / things / mean things or are / meaner yet.”
 
 Not only the university but art too, with its compulsory novelty, its ostensible convergence with a generic contemporary, is a machine for organizing the musculature of ancestry and animality (all we have) into a shitty peristalsis of past and present. Although catastrophe is an achieved and commonplace fact, the various conquistador pathologies—globalized mommy complexes and love of death—that let us loose among all these delicious ironies, including Serpas’s gestural dance with value, are still with us, still shaking loose the unripe fruit, grinding stars into mud. These are the forces that make a fully romantic idea of art impossible, and not just now in a new bad age but at least since portraits of kings were gilded with stolen gold... not to say that you don’t still hope for something else...
 
 Before value arrived in the form of mass murder, gold was just attractive trash. That’s why dollar store earrings are more beautiful than the kind your boyfriend saves up for in a dream of hetero bliss. So trash occupies Serpas’s plinths and poetry, voguing household goods and contortionist doors, assembled whimsically in relation to an unverified rumor about form. The self that generates this (dis)content is both unique and exemplary, already trash like everyone else. Isn’t becoming-trash, as was explored in the important movie Wall-E, the apex of the commodity’s journey, the part where it falls out of the spell it’s been trapped in and back into radical singularity? Or, as Marina Vishmidt asks, “What does it mean to hold a revolutionary position without a revolutionary horizon?” It means to keep climbing on the trash heap, finding what you can where you can.

Hannah Black on Ser Serpas

[potagepotiron]

Hate crime

Season 3 of WTFock has ended, Robbe & Sander have found love and everyone is eagerly awaiting Christmas. It is a time to be happy. Well I’m not. I’m not happy because of how WTFock handled an important event that could have been a gamechanger for LGBTQ fiction. I’m talking about the hate crime that ended episode 28. The way in which this plot line was conceived, handled and received, tells you a lot of how our society views minorities.

Fist and foremost, I am a SKAM fan. I watched every clip and every remake. My favourite is Season 3. Because I’m a gay man. I also know this series can change people’s minds. How different crews made it into their own and are very proud about the result. So I had high hopes when a Flemish version of Season 3 was announced.

So I was watching season 3, had a few remarks here and there, and then came that slur. I’ve written about it earlier. To a gay man like me, familiar with internalized homophobia, the concept of using a terrible slur and throwing accusations at Sander like Robbe just seemed baffling. Do not do unto others what you wouldn’t want them to do to you. You wouldn’t subject another human being to such hate, because you know how it feels. Pure and simple. And then, the hate crime happened.

Let’s be honest, WTFock failed in handling the hate crime, from the absence of trigger warnings before the clip, to the immediate aftermath, right until the very end of the series. There was no middle ground, it either had to commit to its choice and be brilliant or fail. It failed miserably. It chose to portray Robbe & Sander as victims and refused to show any form of queer resilience. And even when it became clear, near the end, that they decided to have the attack trigger other major events in the story, the writers opted to not address the hate crime. And to the optimists stating that the attack could be dealt with in Season 4, I say this: too late.

Personally, I wouldn’t have included graphic violence in the first place. To me there is no value in showing violence. I seriously doubt its inclusion in a series aimed at a teenage audience, because the negatives (trauma and copycat behaviour) far outweigh the learning opportunities, even when handled perfectly. I couldn’t finish the clip. That night, I, a grown man of 35 years of age, was wide awake in my bed until 4 in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, knowing that a number of LGBTQ youth saw that clip and became afraid. Decided to hide in the closet for a bit longer, maybe. The scene simply is not worth it.

And despite my sentiments, the reactions online seemed to disagree: “we needed to show this. We needed to be shown this. People need to know.” I couldn’t understand. Trust me, I know about gay bashing. And so should you. I read all the articles in newspapers about the atrocious hatecrimes in Belgium and elsewhere. I know who Ihsane Jarfi is. Friends of mine who are in a relationship have been scared to go out late at night. I’ve been called names in the street myself. I know. The quesion is, why do I need to see two boys being beaten and left in the street?

I don’t think the depiction of a gay bashing had its place in WTFock. However, I do think that a discussion of homophobia should be included, albeit in another way. Gay violence and intolerance could have been a part of the talk that Robbe & Milan had. I’m not demanding to turn a blind eye to homophobia or to sugarcoat a story. Also, I myself am not blind to homophobia. On the contrary, I have encountered more of it this year than ever before. Belgian football, for example, is still rife with homophobic chants. And recently far right politicians have stressed the need to clearly define norms and abnormality with regard to sexual orientation and the rights to adopt or to get married.

The real question is what kind of homophobia the show chooses, wants to or needs to battle. Gay bashing is a radical example of hate, but hate has many forms. And all hate is the result of a much more complex undercurrent in Flemish society. Hate stems from fear of the unknown, indifference or lack of knowledge. And that is why Flemish LGBT interest group çavaria remains committed to eradicating homophobia in schools. This behaviour can be unlearned. Education is key. And that is why it was a good decision for WTFock to zoom in on the reactions of friends after a coming out. They could have gone the extra mile, though. Homophobia is far more varied and widespread than WTFock shows you.

Back to the hate crime. I wonder why the WTFock writing team missed the mark. Norwegian SKAM director Julie Andem demanded that research into the local youth culture should precede any adaptation of the original content. I’m finding it hard to believe that the gay community was on board with the decision to show a gay bashing. I consulted among my gay friends and all thought it was a bad idea. I also wonder whether or not anti-gay violence is a problem that is typical of Flanders. It’s hard to find reliable data on hate crimes and to interpret it because there could be a reluctance to report incidents, but there seems to be no significant difference between Belgium and its neighbouring countries, nor is there a statistically significant rise in homophobic attacks during the last years. There has been a rise, but that could be due to a higher percentage of people reporting incidents.

I’ve argued that the choices the writers made are bad, and that there is little or no claim to say that hate crimes are typical of Flanders, no more than anywhere else in Western Europe or Scandinavia, where the series originated and where gay bashing wasn’t included. But do I believe that the writers knowingly sabotaged their own writing efforts? Surely not. Yet, it’s hard to pinpoint why the series was developed the way it was without hearing from the makers. Chances are we’ll never know. Unlike their French or Norwegian counterparts, the screenwriters have, up to now, chosen not to communicate on the series. It is my perception that indifference to its LGBTQ audience, an appetite for drama and shock value and a degree of ignorance manifested itself throughout the series. That may or may not have been the intention of the makers, we can’t know, but it certainly had that effect on me as a viewer.

As always, a part of me that says I’m being too harsh. I can imagine it’s a lot less difficult and a lot more relaxed to write series on superheroes then it is navigating your way through the pitfalls of minority representation or gay televised fiction, a genre that exists less than 30 years and of which the rules are being rewritten constantly. It’s also not easy to have a number of militant gays like myself looking over your shoulders constantly, scrutinizing every line and every motive and picking on the one detail that got overlooked.

And should we dismiss the entire series because of this one incident? Let’s move on, Sander and Robbe are happy. Isn’t that a heartwarming prospect to gay kids? But this relativity is the problem. Silencing a hate crime not a detail. Showing violence on tv has repercussions, and they can’t be undone by having a cute gay couple smooch underneath a Christmas tree. A SKAM remake has a responsibility towards its audience. And it’s not that a chance like this comes around often. Budget cuts in locally produced fiction will mean it will take years before there’s another chance to see local gay fiction on screen. So every chance we get needs to be perfect. Because it will affect a new generation of young people.

Ultimately, the question is why it is so hard to have good quality gay stories, made by queer creators for a queer audience? Why was this series made by three white middle-aged men with a background in marketing, with only one of them with proven credentials in screenwriting? Why is it so hard to hire gay actors or to find authentic gay voices? Is it really necessary that a series like SKAM S3 contains “learning moments for the straight community”? Can’t we, for once, make a tv series without taking into account the heterosexual majority? It might be a bit tentative of me to say this, but I’m sure Niels Rahou, the writer of Season 3 of SkamFrance, wouldn’t have included a gay bashing scene. He has commented frequently on his scenarios, he is openly gay and he stated he would have benefited from a similar series during his adolescence. I don’t think the Belgian writing team wrote with the same sense of urgency or treated SKAM as a passion project.

To end, let’s go back to the original version of Skam Norway. The reason why the format was so revolutionary is precisely because being gay or coming out wasn’t a big deal. Jonas didn’t bat an eyelid when Isak told him he’d been with a boy. His friends were fine with it, and so were his parents. Isak faced an internal struggle, gradually coming to terms with and being the result of living in a heteronormative society. But ultimately the mopey kid with a love of sleeping waged a bigger war with his eternally overflowing locker. He just accepted his sexuality. In the end, though, Isak had grown as a person and showed serious committment to his boyfriend Even. But the eye-opener of the series was the way in which same-sex attraction was treated as something not to worry about.

As a reaction to the way in which homosexuality was depicted as part of mundane everyday life, people rightfully complained that this story was a bit too rosy. And it’s true, there is white middle class privilege in this story. Among certain communities, coming out still isn’t evident and living a gay life is considered unsafe for some people. Yet, Julie Andem would rather show her viewers with a vision of an ideal world, in order to help and comfort a LGBT audience, than care about what the public would think of the season. I think WTFock could have been more attentive to that message.

Luckily, for most of us, being gay doesn’t lead us to being the victim of a hate crime. That doesn’t mean we can turn away from the reality of such violence. But almost all of my gay friends have, one way or another, been confronted with various examples of homophobic behavior. More often than not, these instances are based on ignorance and are more small-scale in nature. Being called names in the street. A supposedly witty remark made by a drunk uncle at a Christmas party. Or take the well-known Flemish tv personality who, in all his innocence, made a plea for abolishing the Antwerp gay pride parade during a televised comedy show in june. He was applauded by the audience and genuinely seemed impressed by his clever, seemingly inclusive reasoning. More often than not, the threats the homosexual community face consist not of the raw violence of the physical attack, but of vulgarity, stupidity or ignorance. It is a potentially dangerous to narrow down homophobia to physical attacks and take the risk to have your audience believe that they’re in the clear as long as they don’t punch someone to death.

The only way things will change for the better is when the heterosexual majority steps up its game. This means they have to change, they have to start questioning their accepted beliefs, or how they educate their kids. Ultimately, they themselves won’t benefit from these changes, on the contrary, society as a whole will be a bit less tailored to them when heteronormativity is eradicated.  Inclusivity is about the majority caring about the minority. So this is my advice to the WTFock team. Don’t care about clicks, controversy or drama. Don’t perpetuate the representation of LGBT individuals as victims of a harsh outside world. Dare to shake up old, established narratives. Show that homophobia is far more pervasive and far more subtle than the large-scale evil of a hate crime. And if you’re going down that route anyway, commit to it. Don’t brush it off. Status quo is no longer an option.

[bebopjared]

America is Not Better Than This

Concentration camps.  A racist president. Families being separated at the border. White Nationalists proudly walking in the streets. Human rights violations being flagrantly committed and brushed off at the direction of the government. These are all statements about this country’s present. We live in uncertain times with an unprecedented president, Donald Trump. But is he not what America has been the whole time? He is in fact, as American as the Ku Klux Klan.

The Japanese Internment camps FDR set up in 1942 were called “concentration camps” until the government realized they would look to much like their enemy, the Nazis, if they continued to call them that. So they began to call them “internment camps”. But this country’s history of concentration camps doesn’t start in 1942. In fact, I would argue it goes back to the beginning of this country’s history.

Enslaved Africans imported to this country had already endured concentration camps built on their land in the form of huge slave fortresses. These forts could hold hundreds, thousands of people, before they were shipped off to “the New World”. Those that arrived were held until they sold. Some had families that were able to stay together, others were forced to watch their loved ones be sold off, never to see them again. Separation of families was often used as a punishment, this was the original family separation policy. And all the people and places that owned human beings operated some of America’s earliest concentration camps.

This country has had one civil war. That war was fought primarily over the institution of slavery. The North was not completely dependent on it for its economy to function in 1860, the South was. And while we remember Lincoln for being the magical white president that freed the slaves, we forget he was willing to drop slavery as an issue if it meant ending the war. While he was opposed to slavery, he despised Black people who wanted the same rights as whites. He, like the founders of this country, saw no place in American society for Black people. He actually helped push for and organize colonization of the lands now known as Liberia as a place for former slaves to go.

More presidents than not have been racists. The white men who have always run this country have always seen people of color(particularly Black, indigenous and Latinx peoples) as an issue they have to solve. “They’re too different, how do we either make them white “civilized” people or how do we get rid of them? Andrew Jackson, the seventh President of the United States, a favorite of the current president and many in the country, was a genocidal maniac. He signed the Indian Removal Act, forced thousands of indigenous people to be moved west, broke a variety of treaties with indigenous people and he was a slave owner. Woodrow Wilson, the 28th President of the United States, accelerated the system of federal hiring discrimination and office segregation, started by Theodore Roosevelt, screened the white supremacist film The Birth of a Nation as the first film ever screened inside the White House and he brainwashed a fairly pacifist American populace (at the time) into a bloodthirsty horde ready to destroy all of America’s enemies. Ronald Reagan, the 40th President of the United States, illegally invaded Grenada, allowed for the AIDS crisis to kill thousands of mostly queer people, he accelerated the War on Drugs that Nixon had declared, promoting racist stereotypes about people of color as drug dealers and welfare queens. He was also allowed to get away with Iran-Contra Affair, a corrupt and illegal plan to sell weapons to Iran and give the profits to the Contras, two things congress had barred the federal government to do. He along with many presidents promoted CIA coups a solution to the Soviet Union’s growing influence with nations populated by people of color. Bill Clinton, the 42nd President of the United States, signed the 1994 Crime Bill that accelerated mass incarceration in this country fast enough to impress Ronald Reagan. He instituted welfare reform which took benefits, power and independence away from poor people in this country and he, along with other military powers, watched as hundreds of thousands of people were slaughtered in Rwanda, unable to muster a force able to stop the genocide seemingly because he didn’t care about the issue or people that were being murdered.

Wars of aggression against dozens of peoples in and outside of North America have marked the US as a supporter of dictators all to achieve “foreign policy goals”. This is a cute name for imperialist agendas, meant to subdue and exploit anyone living on land valued by the United States. The Mexican-American War, the War of 1898 and all wars fought against indigenous peoples were all land grabs. There are no other reasons these wars were fought. The wars in Vietnam, Iraq (2003) and Afghanistan have been wars simply meant to promote the Military Industrial Complex and imperial agendas. 

When the images of Nazis marching in Charlottesville began to populate the air waves, many expressed disbelief that these people still existed in America, let alone marching with guns, ready for a fight. I was not one of these people. Nazis marching is nothing new. The Ku Klux Klan is still an active, albeit smaller than it used to be, organization that still organizes events. The Klan at the height of their size and power, organized a march on DC. They beat freedom riders under the watchful eye of the police, who signaled to end the assault. They have planned and executed terrorist attacks often in the open as police forces refused to do anything about them. The fact is that from the inception of this nation, Nazis have always been here. Not in name until the 1930’s, people who believe in the extermination of people of color have been politicians, from small city mayors to Presidents.

The United States is NOT better than what is going on right now. To say it is, is to be ignoring simple historic realities about this country. This country is a racist, misogynist, homophobic, transphobic state that seeks to exploit as many people as it can in the pursuit of profit for a few white men. These are the historical realities. But history is not necessarily a predictor of the future. If there can be a national reckoning in this country, where we would honestly examine this country’s history and call this country what is it; an empire, maybe there could be real, radical change that could transform the government into an organization that works towards justice, peace and equity in our society. 

The words that founded this country were genuinely revolutionary. Equality among all peoples and the ability to have a say in what the government does. But America has never EVER fulfilled the promise of these words. So it’s not that America is better than this…no, it’s not. But America has the ability to become better than what it has been, with radical change as revolutionary as the words that founded this country.

[theskyexists]

Steven Universe Future

i LOVE this rose quartz episode oh m ygod

all of their responses. and Pearl being surrounded by Roses and Greg running AWAY and

one of em coming onto Pearl oh goddd

oh my GOD

one of them is super sweet, one of them is super flirty and one of them is super motherly and enthusiastic. OH GOD

‘i know it’s wrong, but im overwhelmed’ hahaha

‘they don’t just look like her, they ARE like her’

yeah. god they’re so adorable. you can totally see why everybody fell in love with Rose!!

and Pearl and Garnet just literally stay camped out in the bathroom ahahaha

‘i am dying i am dyign i am dead rose quartz’ ‘hehehuhuhehe’ great voice acting on that laughter of doom

the resolutions of these mini episodes are very quick

pink pearl is so cute

that was BEAUTIFUL. Pearlpearl is beautiful. the way they bring the puzzle pieces together, the way they stop making excuses for the person who hurt them, the way they find comfort in each other.

another piece of Pink’s past - why she so desperately wanted to reshape herself into a healer, a benevolent secret keeper, a competent and controlled and wanted creature. she’d hurt her best friend in a way she could not fix, did not have the emotional knowledge to fix, was not in the position to fix, and did not have the power to fix (taken, as pink pearl/Volleyball was, from her like a toy she’d broken). She probably mourned the loss of her Pearl desperately. She tried to be controlled, to be discreet, to be competent like the Diamonds wanted. She was given Spinel as a reward, ‘as a new friend’ - and she never treated her unkindly, never physically hurt her, never showed her the emotions she felt inside - and simply left her when she tired of her and realised that they could never be true friends, because she couldn’t even fathom how to make them true friends - as it would have required the space to deny Spinel her purpose (which in those days meant death for a gem). 

And then our Pearl. Pink keeps looking for ways Pearl is different to what she is supposed to be. She keeps looking for how she might be like Pink herself.

Because Pink has gotten everything she wanted, everything she was supposed to want: control of her own colony (and the respect it implies, and the tenuous power that gives her) and another Pearl. She’s on her way to becoming an ‘equal’ to the other Diamonds.  And yet, she’s bored, she got what she wanted but it turns out it sucks. The place she’s sent to destroy is beautiful, and she still doesn’t feel happy. The feeling grows that there is something fundamentally wrong with the Diamond Hierarchy.

She designs the Rose Quartzes, and makes them healers (that MUST be because of pink pearl), she makes them attractive and kind and beautiful and strong. Makes them in the image of what she wants to be. Just normal enough to be able to make connections with other people without being seen as a Diamond. Just amazing enough that people will love her (like the Diamonds once did).

The more she explores the bubble of freedom that she creates with Pearl - freedom from their roles - the more she develops her philosophy counter to the Diamond Hierarchy. The more she believes that Earth can be a beautiful haven away from them to play in and make connections with people and be forced into nothing and never be locked away into lightless rooms. The more she believes it is worth fighting for. And she learned thousands of years ago that other people don’t want her as she is, can’t handle her true feelings or expressions of her emotion - will break in response or punish her for them. So she keeps all her secrets and wills her new self into being.

And she draws people in and she believes it and she believes the Diamonds don’t care for her! Bismuth tells her yeah they’ll def run if Pink Diamond bites it. She tries it and everything goes to hell.

And she protects her friends. And she bubbles the monsters. And she enjoys Earth and its people because she’s always had to move on from the messes she makes. And she loves Garnet and Pearl and then Amethyst and never ever ever puts them into lightless rooms. And then Greg challenges her on what relationships could be - he challenges her to communicate on an equal footing.

That’s all radical. It’s revolutionary. But she still broke countless people’s lives and hearts doing it. Simply because she was that powerful, that ignorant, that selfish, that underdeveloped every step of the way.

And she knew it. And she gave up everything that she had to change. Change into Steven. And that still had awful consequences, as basically all her choices had - but it was by definition, a selfless choice.

the way we learn about Rose is just so masterful. the way the narrative shows us how radical she was, but also how awful - what terrible damage and harm she’s done to everybody. it’s amazing.

[bimboized]

The Woman Formula

I walk into the room and set up a small wooden stool. Across from it  I set up a small video camera on a tripod. I flip it on and then sit on the stool facing the lens of the camera. My 6'2 frame filling up the frame as I nervously rub a large hand over my shaved head. Blue eyes looking right into the lens as I settle down on the chair as uncomfortable as it is. Nervously putting my hands in my lap of my shorts as I begin. The room feels warm, even though I am only in a simple t-shirt, shorts and sandals I clear my throat. "This is the first trial run of the formula I call, the woman factor. It costs a pretty penny, but if it lives up to expectations it will be worth it. As far as I know, this formula has never been tested on humans. It was stole...acquired from my many black market connections. I've been told it is from a now defunct black ops program of the U.S. military's chemical warfare division. Which has of course been officially denied. " *tugs at collar, beads of sweat on forehead, showing my anxiety, I wipe the beads from my forehead with the back of my hand and continue... "My sources have told me, that this antigen. is all that remains of the program. The program's goal was to make a pathogen that could be delivered to the enemy combatants, in their water supply, that would effectively make them docile and easy to manage. This would be done through a radical formula that would target, the male genome and switch them to their female counter. Turning all hostility and anger to peace and compliance. The main combatant would be ISIS and equivalent terrorist radicals. However, upon leakage of this revolutionary weapon to the press by a disgruntled female scientist. Congress balked upon ethical means, and put an end to the program. All research was soon ordered destroyed. All but the one I hold in my hand. I've already broken down it's elements. So, if this test is a success. I will be able to continue the work. Do to the potential danger of this formula, I will be testing this on myself. In case of my death or incapacity, my notes have been forwarded to my colleagues, to ensure the survival of this program. The sole purpose of this video is to showcase the effects of the potion, I admit trepidation but fortune favors the bold." Resolved I look at the camera again as I pull out a small vial, a strange pink formula swirls around within. I dramatically uncork it and hold it up for the camera, before bringing it too my lips and swallowing it in quick gulps, my head lulled back. That finish I lick the remainder from around my lips and gaze at my watch, then back to the camera. "According to the research, the potions effects should start to be felt, once absorption is fed through the stomach lining into the blood. That can take anywhere to ten to..15...." *groans as I hold my stomach, lurching forward, recovering I look at the camera in small pants. "It seems my calculations were off. I am feeling a strange tingling throughout my body, and my stomach is lurching...it seems to be intensifying and..." I squirm on the chair, head drenched in sweat, my hands roaming over my body as I try to refocus. "The tingling is intensifying, increasing..it..is quite *gasps pleasurable. This is the result of the potion hitting the pleasure centers of the brain, to quell the stress of the transformation....I " hands slip down to my hard bulge in my shorts "I am quite aroused as you can see. It's hard to control myself. Another effect...of the formula...I suspect" On the camera, already the effects can be seen, my once shaved head is sprouting brown hair, filling out the previous thin spots. The follicles growing in, and lengthening rapidly, tugging at my scalp I gasp again as I feel the weight of the sudden hair growth, strands falling into my view, as it flows past my shoulders. I run my hands through it. Noticing for the first time how different my hands look. In front of my eyes I watch the skin ripple. The hair follicles falling away, fingernails lengthen from the tips of my fingers. My fingers cramping as they shrink, becoming smaller, dainty. First the left, then the right. I flex my hands in awe of their new size and softness. My voice coming out in awe. "As you can see. The changes are commencing rapidly. All ready my hair growth is excessive, growing out in minutes what would take months or years. My hands... " holds them up to the camera "Are now of feminine size and shape. I feel the changes moving into my arms now..." I hug myself as I feel and watch the changes wash up my arms, the large arms, thinning, the muscles twitching as they slim down, the bones shifting as my arms shrink, the changes flowing up and into my shoulders. Theirs a loud crack, as bones shift. It doesn't hurt. In fact with each change the pleasure grows. My mind whirling as it is assaulted with new pleasures. I barely notice as the arm hair flakes away. My shirt hanging loose on my narrow shoulders as I seem to shrink in on myself. The sounds of bone and cartilage popping and shifting fills the camera, as I close my eyes for a moment trying to strengthen myself I breath in shallow rapid breathes, as the air is forced from my lungs from the sudden narrowing of my ribcage. My eyes flash open. As on camera, first the left, then the right switch from their original blue to a brown shade. I grit my teeth, as facial hair falls away in waves, splattering over my loose t-shirt below. I hear and feel the cartilage in my nose and ears, pop and shrink. My eyes watering, as the eye sockets grow larger, teeth moving in my narrowing jaw. I try to speak but my tongue feels numb. I my eyelids flutter rapidly, trying to refocus, to gain control. The eyelashes lengthening, thick and long, framing my large eyes. My brow itches, as my eyebrows thin, arching, beautifully sculpted and female. Cheekbones raise on my face, my nose, small with a cute slight upturn to it. I manage to regain focus, looking into the camera "The changes are...indeed...intensifying. It's like" I cough, as I swallow rapidly, throat muscles narrowing, as my voice box changes. The pointy peak melting away from my neck...flattening.... "nothing I've ever felt before..it feels so...good.... " I almost purr at that. my voice high and feminine. Causing me to pause in my narration. I gulp as my mind whirls, two small bangs breaking my reverie. I feel my shoes fall away from me, revealing the small petite feet within, the changes flowing up my legs now, the calves spasming, as the flesh thins, leg hair falling away beneath the baggy pants, My calves cramp as they swell with muscle, defining, tracing up my thighs, which fill out, my feet hanging above the ground as my  legs shorten by inches I squirm on the seat of the stool, feeling the flesh beneath swell, the excess weight from my height loss, moving to my hips and ass. I feel the ass cheeks lift beneath me. A gasp escaping my lips as my pelvis cracks and reforms, pressing out my narrow hips. I bite my lip then speak "The changes now are in there final stages...Genitalia of yet haven't changed... my hand openly rubbing my hard on as I bring it in view. Not wanting to stop the pleasure and telling myself it is just to show the results. But there's a growing need in me, welcoming the show, encouraging it, spurring me on it wants more. I stifle that want and speak again "So...ugh...far..mental capacities seem to be intact...but I find my self control slipping...I...feel. God I feel..." Moaning with wanton abandon. I slip off my shirt and pants in a rapid mania. Sitting naked on the stool now. My back arching as on camera, my small pink nipples darken. The flesh crinkling as they harden, the areolas widening, as thousand of nerve ends grow and expand. I forget my manhood, both hands flying to the chest as I tug on the hard thumb size nipples. The flesh beneath swelling, press outwards. The feelings are ecstatic and I don't want them to end but I manage to speak, my mind barely registering what I am saying through the bliss. "Final....changes are....fuck...commencing...mammaries are growing... finding it hard...hard to think now..brain rewiring from flow of estrogen...Oh god" My petite hands rubbing the cones of flesh, feeling them press into my palms, as the tissue with in fills out, as if two balloons are filling with air. I feel the weight of the flesh, the tightness of the skin, as they expand, the cones round and lush, the flesh overwhelming my petite hands. I feel the jiggle of them, how high they sit on my chest, not yet affected by years of gravity. As in moments I grow breasts that would take a girl, years to develop. The massive watermelon size orbs are electric in sensation as I mead and fondle the soft tissue. A sudden pressure in my groin draws my attention their, as I try to look past my shelf of delicious tit flesh. Panting now I continue to narrate as if on autopilot. "Full development of titties...err breast has finished. Final changes in my cock...err male genitalia is commencing. My mind is wandering. I find it so hard to like...focus. linguistic skills seem to be effected. Was this part of the results intended?" As if on a mind of their own my hands slide down to my throbbing member as I openly stroke it, its rock hard and red, the sensitivity building in it with each stroke. It begins to shrink rapidly in my hands, a slit forming just below my testes as they begin to deflate. Like air out of a tire. I stroke faster now...my thighs twitching, the hair around my genitals long gone, leaving behind smooth skin, finally with a howl of joy and pleasure I explode, thick ribbons of cum surging onto my flat stomach, my organs gurgling beneath as they shift, waist sucking inwards, a soft sexy curve at the front of my stomach leading down to my changing manhood. My mind blanks, ribbons of ecstasy flowing across my brain, chemicals spiking, short circuiting it, rewiring. The orgasm seems to go on and on, the cum, thinning and clearing, a new smell mixing in with the juices, as with a resounding slurp, my testes, one after another, slide up an into me through the large slit. I feel them move and shift, framing on each side, of my fully developed womb. Forming the ovaries of my new female body. My penis now a slippery numb, slips from my fingers, as it slides up to the top of the slit, a flesh hood covering over it as it forms the clit of my new female sex. My fingers don't hesitate. I slip them into me. My fingers coated in my former male cum and new female juices, I bring them to my lips, my full pouty lips as I taste myself for the first time. My eyes widening in shock as I pull my hand from my lips with a noticeable pop sound. My new body is bathed in sweat, which gleams in the harsh lights of the room. Finally, through half open glazed eyes I speak. "Final...body...changes....are like done...That part of the...exper... thingy...is great. But, my mind is not my own. I feel these needs. These wants. my titties...and body feel so senst...sensit.....good. I can't control myself...I can't fight..it..I need..I need. " *hands trace over my chest and body, my eyes taking on a wanton needful look, as the previous me, is there. But not in control. "I... need a man!" Jumping up I knock over the camcorder, it falls facing me on the ground, watching my naked form walk away, oblivious of my nakedness, a sexy sway to my hips. Stopping at the door I turn to the camera with a wink and then I disappear from view the sounds of my giggling fading into the distance out of frame......Fade to black...

[unsoundedcomic]

The Vienne Question

So Anon submitted:

Okay, I wanted to shut up after that first question, but now with the follow up... So Vienne wanted to provide armour, not arms, to domestic terrorists and rebels - the difference being, exactly? I'm not hating her, but saying "she did nothing wrong" when she's quite literally a criminal and a traitor is, well, strange. "Revolutionary" is such a nice word for that, until you look at the bloodbath every revolution becomes - especially a successful one.

And you lovelies had some pretty great responses. I knew you would do a better job than I <3

@kingofferrets said

For anti-revolution Anon - I think we're conflating things here. 1) Vienne isn't actually part of the March. She's not directly a revolutionary, but she's a sympathizer helping them. This makes her a criminal and a traitor... as defined by Alderode, which she opposes. Claiming she's morally wrong isn't straightforward. She isn't actually personally doing repugnant things, and probably has very little reliable information about what the March is doing - propaganda from both sides.

The morality of revolution isn't straightforward, either. Nothing guarantees the existence of legal recourse. There's no party a plat can vote for that will get their grandchildren a chance to live to 30. More generally, dictators are willing to preserve power with violence. What's the alternative in a broken system? (Note: low violence is still best.) Most people would say there's some point revolution is justified - some may already think Alderode is there. There's more to see.

An Anon said:

"Vienne is a criminal/traitor" anon,do you think people are *never* entitled to rebel against the state? I agree that you shouldn't overthrow the government just because you don't like it in general, but in this case Alderode is pretty oppressive. And it's not like she has any other way of being heard, since the religious establishment can veto any political candidate (I think), poor people are disfranchised (right?) and i'm pretty sure women couldn't vote anyway.

Another Anon said:

Did Vienne consider the March to be violent terrorists? ARE they violent terrorists? All we've been given in the comic and short story is that they're "dissidents" and "bold" in words and actions. But that could just as easily describe protesters who refuse to back down even when police bring out fire hoses to turn on them as it could a violent mob. We DO have explicit descriptions of what Alderode government does to punish those who toe the line, on the other hand.

Why would Quigley, who so fears that punishment, not call out the March for doing its own share of atrocities to discourage Vienne when he has his doubts? Is it because he believes in their cause, or could it be that they perhaps aren't what readers have been assuming them to be? "Radical" doesn't have to always mean "violent". What Rosa Parks did was pretty "radical" in her day, after all. Perhaps Vienne really didn't do anything wrong, just we readers have jumped to conclusions.

Another Anon agrees:

I feel like when it comes to Vienne, considering Alderode divides people into racial castes, won't let people leave the country, and all the other stuff the government does, trying to fight back is kind of justified. Like if your country is that bad, turning against them isn't really being a "traitor", since your country never earned your loyalty in the first place. Its a little odd to blame someone for trying to fight against a government that bad. I doubt peaceful protest would work.

This goes without saying:

i think vienne is really cute and i wish she had survived instead of quigley.

And my favourite response from a different Anon: 

Here's my take on the vienne. 1. You can't leave Alderode. 2. You live an extremely unjust society, where your options are severely limited by class, sex, and caste. 3. Your actual physical characteristics are forcibly changed, resulting in either a jackpot that's unlikely, prejudice, or a much shorter life. 4. There is no avenue to dissent meaningfully. There is no such thing as a peaceful solution. Vienne wants a not shit system for her, her family, and everyone she knows.

Every slave revolt has had something similar. The founding of the USA and many other countries had similar situations, where you can live according to someone else's rule and varying degrees of suffering or violently rebel. You keep labeling her a domestic terrorist, but what other choice has Alderode presented her to change it? There's no magical fairytale speeches that will change their mind. There's no magic wand that will give her, or her husband, or their child more life.

So what is Vienne to do? Just give up and give in to awful people? Teach her son pymary and send him to be a child soldier? Because that means the next Vienne has to deal with that shit, or the next Sorthos for that matter. You say it's a bloody rebellion, but life in Alderode is bloody even in peace; remember those tortured people Duane shielded Mikala's eyes from? There's one option for her to change things. She took it. She had a shit hand dealt to her and she tried her best.

I particularly like the idea that Vienne was acting so Vienne’s of the future had more of a chance. When you regard your life as a link in history’s chain I think it can bolster your courage and sense of purpose. What you do may seem small or stupid but if you’re daring to defy the status quo, you stand to become inspiration to the people that will come after you - and they may succeed where you failed, yet only succeed because you tried! Even in failure and disgrace we can be phenomenally important!

[tedfashionski]

Finking, Finking.

Hi, welcome to my ted talk. (That is the only time I will ever make that joke. This is Fashionski Finks. Expect radically low standards of self-involved rantiness with zero research or accountability from here on out). For a while there I seriously thought that the covid-19 quarantine was going to result in people being increasingly placid and accepting of creeping extensions of the police state. But here I am, getting depressed again, not about the protests, which I love, but more about my relationship to in-group pressure dynamics. One of the problems with being a relentless contrarian is the discomfort of my impulse to rebel against groups even when they’re championing the right thing. I have to find my own way to fight against the system as an outsider. No gods, no masters, no fucking peer pressure.  I’ll never be happy joining a chorus line. I don’t sign fucking petitions (they’re just lists for the NSA). I do donate, but like fuck will I do it performatively. I can’t go to protests cus I get panic attacky in crowds. I empathise pretty strongly with outsiders of all stripes but believe ridiculously excessively in the public good of criticism, and have a nostalgic love of trolling (I like to think I’m gentle with it though). Bring back the troll! We need that fucker, he’s a sign of a healthy internet. I’m writing this blog thing as an extension of my need to vent my extreme negativity. TBH I never expected to get any followers with ted twitter and the bizarre welcomingness of the hf twitter community totally wrongfooted me. I’m not nice. Ted isn’t meant to likable. He’s my dark side. I was meant to be using this alt as a way to terrorise the nice nice (secretly cruel) fashion people. I’m gunna try and up that aspect more. Just bear in mind, my complaints are largely about the system, but if I see you perpetuating fashion’s entrenched anti-intellectualism or its insidery bullshit, I’ll come for you with a little meta-bomb with your name on it. Maintaining my misanthropic tone does take work tho, like, deep down in some twisted part of my psyche, I guess I do actually want to be liked. It’s fucked up.

I suppose it’s only fair to explain this Ted fursona. Like, new concept, who dis? Why all the furry porn? …..because I just think it’s hilarious. Every time I think about the furries I cackle (not at them, mind). I just love the mad corruption of pure Disney aesthetics into hardcore pornography. That’s anti-authoritarian as fuck. I love the sincerity of their culture. The way the crazy fetish aspect means they’ll never be fully blandified by mainstream acceptance. The way it’s so cringe but so delightful. And more seriously, I’m interested in how a culture of mostly gay male nerds developed to the point where they’ll invest 10k in custom fursuits and support eachother’s independent businesses in ways that the fashion community completely fails to do. The fashion world sucks. There’s so many correlations there that I want to investigate: the newness (furries date from around the 70s, fashion culture in its self-aware state dates from the late 19th C – both very young fields); the centralisation/decentralisation; the hierarchy (furries can be pretty catty, I have discovered in my research, and we all know what fashion people are like); the adoption of new identities; the cis-boy gayness aspect (I’m increasingly tired of the extreme nasty hierarchy of certain CSM queens. It’s all very UGH. Just, fuck those particular bitches.) There’s more to the furry love, but I’ll explore it in future posts.

More importantly, why Ted fucking Kaczynski? I’m not like, actually a terrorist. (….yet. tehehe. NO, seriously I like non-maiming violence. Fuck yeah to property damage. Fuck yeah to disabling the system in extreme way. But no to wooden IEDs. Think of my shitty jokes that fail to land as my hand-crafted bombs). I think I like the shitness of Ted. He was just an epic fail of a terrorist. I’m a little white girl living in London. I’m not actually a primitivist, as much as I crave a hut in the woods. I did go to an elite school though. I had some really shitty experiences in the fashion industry in my early 20s, and I watch my friends who are relatively successful in that system and I get so angry on their behalf at their poor treatment. They think I’m too angry. Fuck that. They should be more angry, and the fact that they can’t be angry at their extreme precarity and the fact they’re still insecure and terrified of being ejected by the system after all their investment and skills they’ve built up is BULLSHIT. I’ll be double angry for them, I’m not invested in that system. I don’t need it to pay my rent. I’m free, motherfuckers, and I’m coming for the abusers and exploiters. If you’re a complacent industry figure not fighting hard from within, uggghhhhh fuck you. Yes, YOU. Soooo, I relate pretty hard to the MK ultra stuff. (go look him up, he was basically tortured and experimented upon by the elite). But there’s a pretty big chasm between my views and his, and I’ll try to be clear about the extent of my interest in his extreme beliefs. I haven’t even finished reading the manifesto. Basically, I watched that shitty show on Netflix with sam worthington around the same time I watched Joker (that movie fucked me up) and thought it’d be a good outlet to larp online as a terrorist. There’s the angry white alt-right school shooter aspect, which I’m still figuring out, cus I’m non-binary and I was raised by nutso trumpy right-wingers, who I barely speak to anymore, and I struggle to get along with people generally. There’s sad, self-pitying rage here. I empathise with the angry white dudes too much. I feel guilty about it. That’s good ground for artmaking (yes, shamefully, this…is…art. Sorry). I modelled this fursona a little after my brother, who I spent years living with and arguing with and trying to lift out of his scary racist youtube rabbit holes. This is actually quite an emotional thing for me, cus I did the ‘talk to your fascist family’ thing. And I completely failed. I realised his right-winginess wasn’t lessening, I wasn’t gaining ground, and in fact my excessive empathy and desire to reach out to the relative most similar to me in character meant his extremism was rubbing off on me. Making me more resentful and depressed. Feeling powerless. I was being too kind-hearted and forgiving of his masculine impotence. So I’m exploring some personal shit here. But Ted is also a cute lil fuzzball teddy bear. He means well, but me being super autistic and faily at social skills means he’s kind of a dick, cus I am. I’m going to try and further develop this character, this POV, and this post is the only time I’ll explain the divide between him and his creator (moi). The ‘I’ on the twitter and here is Ted Fashionski, I need that space between me and him. Masks give us this freedom to be more ourselves. Internet culture has lost a lot of its wild brutal anonymity in the last decade or so, now everyone’s afraid of making mistakes. How the hell do you grow if you’re not allowed to fuck up? This is a vital outlet. He’s become an important part of my life and I have to say, I love being Ted Fashionski. He’s like Paddington Bear who just escaped form Guantanamo or something.

I get pretty fatigued as a matter of course. I’m a long-term depressive since childhood. I have a difficult time keeping my hard-on for living. I don’t get suicidal really but I do struggle with extreme fatigue. I sleep a lot. I often fall into spirals of self-hate. And as someone who utterly believes in revolutionary leftist politics, I beat myself up about not doing enough. I’m so middle class and english and white. I was raised in such a chauvinistic and complacent culture; I don’t even know where to start. I’m wading my way through post-colonial literature and beating myself up for finding it boring and uncomfortable. It’s hard to force yourself to acknowledge your culture is The Bad Guys. It’s easier to fall into fanstasies of supremacy and butthurt misunderstoodness. And it’s not like my depressive brain needs any encouragement to hate me. My trajectory is ever leftwards, but I remember the righteous fury of being right-wing. I get it, that was me. We need more paths back from fascism, more comprehension of why people are that kind of shitty. I talk less, and less well, the more depressed I am. If I’m talking, it means im feeling a lot better. Just, fyi.

Give me a minute to be critical here. With the George Floyd protests, a lot of the cool guys on fashion twitter has gone blazingly hardcore on the political side. But there’s this troubling rhetoric about ‘no return to normal content’ or ‘this isn’t the time for fashion’. Like fuck it isn’t. This is a key problem with fashion culture right here, we have this received perception of fashion as empty escapism. Escapism matters in fashion, yes. But seriously, talking about the surfaces of things does not equal not caring about deeper meaning. What the fuck. Clothes are a connective tissue, a membrane between us. They’re emotional and powerful. We can talk about things that matter THROUGH clothes. I speak fashion, pretty fucking well. Most people who work at fashion magazines are morons with no understanding or respect for their subject. They’re incapable of doing it justice, and that’s deliberate. On this tumblr you’ll see rants and reviews of fashion and other artforms, always interpreting through a fashion lens. cus it matters, cus it’s a vital part of the culture, cus just because something has a glittery, seductive surface doesn’t mean it doesn’t communicate or contain depth. There’s no going back to ‘normal fashion content’, yes. Normal fashion content is a fucking psyop to divert legitimate interest in aesthetics amongst largely non-academic dyslexic visual types away from careful thought/feeling and towards empty consumerist commericiality. The traditional fashion media wants you to express yourself and your interest in the zeitgeist through buying more shit. Another fashion world is possible. Let’s destroy the old and build a new one, one where surface and spirit are connected and true and fashion can’t be abused in service of evil industrial monopolists.

/end rant. TLDR: angry fictional teddy bear with tin-foil hat and an eco-anarchist fetish says no to stupid fashion and yes to the renewal of conceptual fashion. Also, Fuck White People.

[the-bi-writer-blog]

Not all Deaths are Created Equal (Musings on WLW Deaths in Popular Media)

I want to take a sec and talk about character deaths, and the way they differ between queer and non-queer characters. Below are major spoilers for the show “The 100″ and for the game “Life is Strange.” 

So! I just played through the Square Enix game Life is Strange, and I was entirely delighted in the beginning. You start as a high school senior in a cute coastal town, taking photos and solving mysteries via time travel. 

Cool, right? 

What’s even better is that the main two characters, Max and Chloe, are wlw. (It’s sort of left up to reader interpretation if they are bi or gay, but since Chloe at one point literally calls boys, “gross,” and says that no one but her is good enough for Max, I’m going to go ahead and say she’s a lesbian who’s still in the process of figuring that out.)

Anyway! In the first few episodes of the game, you have these sweet story about these two childhood friends reuniting and having adventures. They watch the sunset together overlooking the ocean, they walk along train tracks and reminisce about their shared childhood, they go for a midnight swim after breaking into the school pool. 

These aren’t the best life choices, but the game shows a genuine and sweet relationship that develops between the two. 

Aside from a lot of flirting, however, and a very brief kiss as the result of a dare, the Chloe and Max never acknowledge their feelings for each other. That is, until Chloe’s about to die. (I said major spoilers, didn’t I?) 

The climax of Life is Strange involves Max and Chloe standing in front of a giant hurricane that’s about to wreck their town. Max is given the choice to either save the town, or to save Chloe. For unknown reasons, Max can’t do both. 

Yes, you heard that right. Our lesbian MC either has to choose between saving her childhood best friend/long lost love, or doing what is obviously the more moral choice. How can you save a single life instead of hundreds? The “moral” choice here is meant to be obvious. 

So, here’s the thing about the two endings: if you choose to save Chloe, the two of you wait out the storm, and then drive off together into the sunset. Nothing is acknowledged or talked through, including the fact that you just let everyone die.

More conspicuously, the girls never discuss their feelings for each other, and the game doesn’t end on a kiss.

Guess when the game does end on a kiss, though?

That’s right, you guessed it! When the lesbian is about to die. More specifically, when one lesbian is forced to choose between saving the love of her life, or an entire town full of people.

If Max chooses to save the town, letting Chloe die, you get a passionate kiss from Chloe (finally!) before, well, going back in time and watching her slowly bleed to death as you do nothing to stop it.

Which is bullshit.

It also brings us back to the “not all deaths are created equal” idea. I mean, ideally, the amount of dead lesbians in your story would be 0, but in a mystery story where there are multiple wlw, it’s understandable that death may be involved. 

However.

However. 

However. 

How characters die also makes all the difference. Did they knowingly sacrifice their own life? Did they die a hero? Or were they killed off screen, probably in a brutal way, simply to further the plot? 

If we’re talking Life is Strange, it’s the second one. Rachel Amber, our missing bisexual girl who started this whole mystery, is revealed to have been dead and buried since the game began (which, after giving multiple hints that she’s still alive, and can be rescued if the player makes the right choices, is a really, really shitty way to end things. But I digress.)

So we have Rachel, our first queer woman, literally buried in a shallow grave after a brutal death, before the game even begins. Then we end the game with a choice to either kill another queer woman, who the MC now loves, or to let the rest of the town die. 

As a reminder, to bring this all home: Life is Strange starts out with a light and hopeful aesthetic, and does everything but come right out and say, “Rachel is still alive, and all three queer girls can reunite and be friends if you make the right choices and solve the mystery.” 

Then it reveals a brutally murdered wlw, and heavily pressures you to kill another. Leaving you, the last standing lesbian, utterly alone. The last scenes of the game, if you choose to save the town, are literally of your lady love’s funeral.

Not at all depressing, right?

Bringing this back to message again, I want to underline how many different ways this could have gone: 

1. Rachel Amber (our missing girl) could have been alive, and been found/rescued by the player. There is literally nothing added to the story by Rachel’s death, especially after the audience has been repeatedly baited to believe that she’s alive.

Furthermore, having Rachel (and most likely Chloe) dead removes the possibility of sequels for these wonderful characters. It means that in the new prequel series, you get to watch Chloe and Rachel fall in love...knowing all the while that Rachel is going to die before the next game. 

What value does Rachel’s impending death add to the prequel game? As I said in a previous post, the LGBTQ community does not need a reminder that life is subtle and fleeting. Believe me, we know. 

In a world where wlw are killed and shunned for the way we love, sometimes we just want a little escapism and a happy ending. Especially from a game that all but promised us one.

2. Second scenario: Max could have figured out a way to save Chloe without killing everyone else.

Since the rules of time travel are never established in game, it was a conscious choice on the part of the creators to allow for Chloe’s death; not a narrative inevitability. 

Once again: old white cishet men decided, of their own accord, to kill the lesbian. There’s literally nothing stopping the creators from creating a way to save Chloe. At all. Besides perhaps an understanding that for LGBTQ characters, survival is a far more radical ending than death. 

Question: If, as a creator, have the choice to tell literally any story, and imagine any world, why do you imagine a world where 2/3 of the queer women die?

3. Scenario three: If, for some reason you absolutely had to kill Chloe in game, you reaaaaaaaaly shouldn’t do it immediately after Max and Chloe confess their feelings for each other, and finally kiss. 

From a storytelling angle, I do understand wanting to save all the Big Emotional Moments for the climax, but here’s the thing: once again, not all storylines are created equal. 

For a cishet love story to end this way might be interesting, because there are a million happy cishet love stories out there. A single sad ending for a single cishet couple is a drop in the bucket compared to the massive amounts of happy stories to be easily found. 

But queer love stories are few and far between, and they almost always end in tragedy. Burying your gays isn’t revolutionary; giving them happy endings is.

And if you can’t give them that, give them happy lives before they die.

In Life is Strange, Max and Chloe only ever kiss/confess their love if you make the choice to sacrifice Chloe. That’s right folks; in order to have the “happy ending” of the two characters getting together, one of them has to watch the other die. 

In a world where queer relationships are tested at every turn, that’s NOT the message the LGBTQ comunity needs. 

The message that finding love will only end in death? We’ve heard it. We’ve heard it from The 100, where Lexa dies literally minutes after finally consummating her relationship with the woman she’s loved and been flirting with for several seasons. (Also, she dies from a stray bullet, not in battle like she would have wanted to, as a leader of a warrior people.) 

We’ve heard it from Buffy, where Tara is killed- again by a stray bullet - seconds after reuniting with the love of her life. Tara’s death scene is literally her happy reunion with Willow. 

Are you seeing a pattern? In popular media, the message is, “If two women are happy together, one of them will die.” 

Would these few examples be as big of an issue if there were hundreds of other examples of happy wlw in media? Of course not. But are there hundreds of other examples of happy wlw in media? Nope. Not at all. 

*

To bring this all back to Life is Strange: as a wlw myself, I was delighted to play through this game, and watch two reunited friends figure out what they meant to each other. 

Then, once I was entirely invested, I was crushed to realize that there was no possible happy ending. Really, the “happiest” ending possible involves a confession of true love and a kiss...immediately followed by a lesbian dying via (you guessed it!) a bullet.

*

Taken on its own, I do love Life is Strange. I’ve read several theories on the meaning behind it, and, taken in a vacuum, I can appreciate the story for what it is.

But I don’t exist in a vacuum. I exist in a world where I lost my entire support system when I came out. I live in a world where my parents disowned me and kicked me out of the house, even though I didn’t have the ability to work due to disability. And in that world? I don’t need a reminder of the fragility of life. I need a reminder that love matters, and can save the day.

tl;dr All I’m asking for is wlw who get happy endings in mainstream media. It doesn’t feel like too big of an ask, but apparently, it is.

*

As an important end note: every piece of media listed above is also severely lacking in other areas of representation, most notably when it comes to PoC. Joss Whedon’s work is well known for its racism and misogyny; The 100 has almost exclusively white MCs, and treats its characters of color atrociously, and Life is Strange barely contains any characters of color at all. All of which are unacceptable.

Additionally, none of these pieces of media contain a single trans or disabled character. White, ablebodies cis gays are the only LGBTQ characters that seem to be represented in popular media at all. Which again, is unacceptable.

So I want to acknowledge that there’s a lot more work to be done, and that the LGBTQ community should be as diverse on screen as it is in real life. LGBTQ representation absolutely has to include PoC and disabled characters to be complete. 

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Why the Women of Broad City are the Stoner Heroines We’ve Been Waiting For

Jennifer Boeder of High Times Reports:

As we embark upon the premiere of the final season of Broad City, we recount all the reasons why Abbi and Ilana are the weed queens the world so desperately needed.

When the cultural history of marijuana is recounted, the women of Broad City will be ranked alongside Willie Nelson, Dennis Peron, Bob Marley, and Jeffrey Lebowski as some of its most groundbreaking and influential 420 icons. Lead characters Abbi Abrams and Ilana Wexler (played by the show’s creators, Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer) have given us a completely original entry in the cannabis canon: a female Stoner Duo.

Stoner Heroes have been with us since the release of Easy Rider in 1969. The archetype arose with the ’60s counterculture, but much like cannabis itself, the trope evolved into an array of countless strains. Cheech and Chong’s Up In Smoke, however, spurred a seismic change in stoner screen-history. Released in 1978, the film not only invented the stoner comedy genre, it expanded the archetype of the lone Stoner Hero into the even-more-iconic Stoner Duo.

Up In Smoke laid the blueprint for Half Baked, The Big Lebowski, Pineapple Express and a plethora of other films. It birthed iconic duos like Bill and Ted, Craig and Smokey, Method Man and Redman, Harold and Kumar, Jay and Silent Bob, and Shaggy and Scooby.

While these onscreen Stoner Duos have been remarkably diverse in terms of age, race, and socioeconomic status they’re almost inevitably male. Historically, the rare stoner chicks we’ve seen in film and television are bit players, adjacent to male leads. Exactly one woman made Ranker’s Top 20 Most Influential Stoners In Film History: Annie Hall, a Woody Allen character from 1977.

All of the above explains why, when women saw Broad City for the first time, millions of us nearly dropped our bongs. Finally, we were seeing ourselves onscreen for the first time–and not as desperate suburbanite widows driven to drug-dealing; or cute, pixie sidekicks to leading male characters. Broad City puts fully-realized lady dope fiends center stage. 

The show also treats pot differently than any series that came before it. While weeddrives the plot of some episodes, it’s also just a part of the landscape–like bodegas, graffiti, and the subway. Whether Abbi and Ilana are partying, FaceTiming, masturbating, working, eating, managing sprained ankles, or coping with heartbreak, getting stoned is portrayed as essential– but also ordinary. Like regular trips to Bed Bath and Beyond as well as the love and loyalty of dear friends, cannabis is experienced as an integral accessory for the human condition.

In honor of this iconic, trailblazing duo (and the fifth and final season of Broad City), here’s a breakdown of the ways in which Abbi and Ilana are the weed queens we didn’t know we needed:

Abbi and Ilana Take Pot Seriously 

In Season 1, Episode 2, Abbi embarks on the heroine’s journey of buying her own pot like a grown adult—a quest inspired by the sight of Ilana pulling a bag of weed from her own vagina.

In Season 2, Episode 9, Ilana plunges into a fiery romance with Adele, a mirror image of Ilana who seems perfect in every way—but when Adele wrinkles her nose and announces that she doesn’t smoke pot, Ilana promptly shows her the door.

Men might compromise on this issue, but weed queens have their priorities straight.

Fast forward to Season 3, Episode 4, in which Ilana throws a party at her apartment to raise funds for a rat exterminator. She rummages through her belongings, apartment, and hair in search of spare nugs she can sell. And the weed bar she assembles is truly a sight to behold.

They Also Overdo it

In a quest to be an adult who purchases her own pot, Abbi gets mistaken for a weed dealer and ends up scoring from a middle schooler. Then, she decides to smoke in the bathroom at the dentist’s office– and triggers the smoke alarm and sprinkler system. Then there’s Ilana, who frequently smokes joints before napping at work and is known to steal office supplies that she uses to barter for grass.

Then there’s the time in Season 2, Episode 9, when the duo gleefully vape at their coat check job and lose Kelly Ripa’s coat. There’s also that classic moment while attempting to swipe an air-conditioner from an NYU dorm room in Season 2, Episode 1, that they decide to teach some undergrads about “the dangers of ripping underage bongs.” How they do this? By ripping bong hits with them, of course.

Obviously, no one should steal, or vape at work, or purchase weed from eighth-graders, or get underage boys high; yes, these are unarguably foolish decisions. But it’s liberating to watch female fuckups act irresponsibly. Male stoners onscreen (and in real life) have always had permission—nay, encouragement—to be libertines and jackasses. As Broad City’s executive producer Amy Poehler noted, Abbi and Ilana’s transgressive behavior is intentional: “Women always have to be the eye rollers, as the men make a mess. We didn’t want that. Young women can be lost, too.”

Abbi and Ilana are messy, and while their weed-fueled debauchery may not always be wise, it’s both subversive and funny-as-hell. And it’s genuinely refreshing to watch women who don’t care about their jobs get high and eat cereal. Abbi and Ilana DGAF about the grind: they’re too busy looking for the grinder.

Abbi and Ilana are Role Models for Women

Okay, capitalists. Maybe they’re not role models in terms of their non-striving, just-lie-and-leave approach to their jobs. And, sure: they probably shouldn’t have gone on that creepy Craigslist, housecleaning-in-your-underwear job to raise funds for a Lil Wayne concert. Or substituted weed shakes for Vicodin post-surgery. Or made out with super-stoned minors. Or tried to sneak pot into Israel by hiding bags of weed in their vaginas. These are all horrible ideas.

But I would argue their defiance, rule-breaking, and risk-taking is admirable and something females need to see more of–regardless of age. As Abbi Jacobson told theNew York Post, “Maybe not a lot of women on TV act the way we do—but a lot of the women we know act that way.”

Broad City hasn’t just broken boundaries around sex, nudity, queerness, and bodily functions– it’s also shattered the archetype around who’s allowed to be a slipshod stoner.

Weed is part of Abbi and Ilana’s unapologetic pursuit of pleasure, which is radical and deeply feminist. But their love for the herb pales in comparison to their love for each other. Their adoring friendship, both in front of and behind the camera, truly makes our Grinch heart grow three sizes.

“Where people of my rapidly advancing age had Jay and Silent Bob, millennials have Abbi and Ilana as their Stoner Superheroes, and thank Weed Jesus for that,” says Samantha Irby, comedian, blogger, and New York Times bestselling author of Meaty and We Are Never Meeting In Real Life. “It’s a shame that it feels revolutionary to see female friendship depicted in such a real and honest way, but it totally is. Abbi and Ilana have filled a little nug-sized hole in my heart and for that I’m forever grateful.” 

The Duo Prove Pot is a Feminist Issue

Season 4, Episode 1 opens with Abbi and Ilana strolling whilst casually discussing hairstyle choices. The camera pulls back to reveal they’re actually escorting a woman through an enraged throng of pro-lifers to the door of an abortion clinic. Ilana bids the woman farewell by saying, “Your body, your choice”—and then whips out a bowl and lights it. A protester yells at her, causing Ilana to blow dope smoke in his face and shriek, “You don’t know how much you need that!”

Abbi follows suit, exhaling smoke all over the infuriated crowd. Ilana puts the bowl in her pocket, and they walk off into the sunset, chatting with smiles on their faces. The camera cuts to the first protestor, standing in shock: “Why are we doing this?” he says to himself, munching on a cookie.

It’s 59 seconds of pure, smoke-laden genius. In under a minute, Abbi and Ilana somehow manage to convert a religious nut bag with the power of pot. They show us that young women can be stoner slackers while still stepping up to take direct action to defend women’s rights. The sight of them smoking grass in their clinic escort shirts is like manna from feminist stoner heaven.

Broad City is first and foremost an absurdist comedy. But despite its surreal silliness and ridiculous antics, it’s had a real impact on women.

“I can definitively say that if it weren’t for Broad City, I might not be in the cannabis industry today,” says Tiara Darnell, Oregon’s 2017 Budtender of the Year and host/executive producer of the podcast High, Good People. “These weed queens busted through the D.A.R.E. wall in my mind and helped me define my relationship with the plant. In the show and in real life, Abbi and Ilana have inspired me to define ‘normalization’ on my own terms and to create the smart stoner content I want to see in the world.”

And that’s exactly what the ladies of Broad City have instilled in canna-loving women across the world: be the Weed Queen you want to see in the world.

Jennifer Boeder is a content specialist at Grasslands: A Journalism-Minded Agency. She writes about cannabis, music, politics, and culture. Her work has appeared in Cannabis Culture, The Weed Blog, Oxygen, Chicagoist, Wonkette, Built In Chicago, Cuepoint and The Urbaness. She lives in Los Angeles.

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON HIGH TIMES, CLICK HERE.

https://hightimes.com/culture/why-women-broad-city-stoner-heroines-weve-been-waiting-for/

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