#navel gaze

[max1461]

"I would never-"

You would if you were tired enough. You would if you were hungry enough. You would if your mind and body had been worn down enough, through pain or disease or toil or violent struggle. You might if you were put on the wrong medicine, or you got the wrong kind of head injury, or you were forced to choose between someone else and yourself. You might if your livelihood was staked on it, or all your hopes and dreams. You might if you didn't know what else to do, if it's what you were taught or if nobody taught you anything else.

I have not been worn down in most of these ways. I have lived a remarkably privileged life. But I have been worn down in some ways. And they were enough to teach me that in the wrong circumstances, any of us can become someone we don't want to be. It's worth keeping that in mind.

[chamerionwrites]

As an unabashed writer, reader, and enjoyer of fanfic, 50K-note Tumblr posts about how gr8 fanfic is are almost universally insufferable

[myopicry]

lurking in radfem spaces has really changed my entire view of most mainstream internet spaces because once you realize just how censored women's voices and feminist thought are on these sites, and how much porn and misogynistic values are defended, you can't unsee it.

how anyone can bear to participate in an online space where porn, of all things, is lauded as the bastion of "self-expression" and yet any woman slightly critical of popular cultural opinions is demonized is wild, especially when a lot of that porn is a) violent and misogynistic b) often accessible by minors c) gross and shallow d) myriad of other reasons far better writers have probably described

fuck I'm just so tired. seeking rationality online is just opening a pandora's box of garbage and seeing the reflection of how bleak the social hegemony has become.

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

The reasons I love the bug where Zevran can rock up in DA2 and DAI's war table mission despite the player having chosen to kill him in DAO is because I remember the unbridled glee gamers had at killing him for flirting with their male Warden.

The reason I dream of Fenris, Anders, and Isabela receiving equitable consideration and dignity in discourse is because I remember the response to their characters outside progressive bubbles.

Anders had a whole homophobic manifesto written about him and sent to DA2's head writer (who's gay btw). Gamers would be proud of handing Fenris back to his slave owner because Fenris was 'difficult'. (Of course the recently escaped slave is prickly and angry). Certain fans still enjoy telling you how they kill 'the terrorist' on every Anders post, evidently because of his actions, transparently because he's a mentally unwell queer "SJW" they feel vindicated in killing. Any mention of Isabela must also apparently include slut-shaming when promiscuity is a fine response to being a former child bride who's free of their cruel and possessive husband. Isabela fearing commitment and being sexually open is not an invitation for dehumanization. I play DA2 with the polyam mod, so I could be wrong, but I always felt Isabela and PurpleHawke were well matched there anyway.

We've come far in terms of accepting diversity in videogame storytelling, but cycles of controversy around queer romance, diversity, and sex in videogames is an old one. The difference being that the industry has mostly stopped catering to conservative and contemptuous discourse now and for that I'm glad.

[mishacollins]

Time.

I’m at home alone with COVID, which is giving me time to naval-gaze and empty my inbox. In that inbox, I discovered that my friend Alex Gorosh (director of my series RoadFood) sent me this little documentary short on the topic of time.

For some reason, the unfathomable magnitude of space and time has always been a great source of comfort to me. I remember feeling miserable as a teenager and looking up at the stars of the night sky and taking great comfort in the fact that I was just a speck on this tiny blue planet in an ever-expanding universe of quintillions of planets. Looking up at the night sky on a clear night in New England as a kid I could see faint glow of the milky way—hundreds of billions of stars so distant they ceased to be points of light, but together they added up to a dusty smudge of luminosity across the sky—and all of the stars the Milky Way are in our own galaxy! And there are hundreds of billions of stars in hundreds of billions of other galaxies in this universe. To my high school mind all of this comforted me, because how could my little problems ever feel big when held up to the enormity of everything.

I always remember being soothed by the vastness of the universe, but when I was 40, I read “Annals of the Former World,” a tome on geology by John McPhee. The book beautifully illustrated the great expanse of geologic time, which so often exceeds the limits of our comprehension with this simple quote, “Consider the Earth’s history as the old measure of the English yard, the distance from the king’s nose to the tip of his outstretched hand. One stroke of a nail file on his middle finger erases human history.”

When I remember to remember, this too comforts me. The infinitesimally-small-smallness of my troubles helps them fade into nothing. Watching these few minutes on Youtube this morning, it was comforting to see that I am not alone in this perspective on our blink of time in this world. 

https://youtu.be/nOVvEbH2GC0

[screampotato]

I'll be honest, the most important thing for me is not what anyone's approach to Gaiman's work will be going forward. That really has zero impact on the real world.

The most important thing for me is that it becomes more widely known what he's accused of, so that people who might engage with him at events know there's cause to be wary.

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

The reason why the gods discussion works so well as a distraction from stopping Ludinus and the Weave Mind (and per Evoroa it is being deliberately used as such) is both because it's a big question without a clear answer that could be talked through endlessly (and indeed, between the table and the fandom IT HAS), but also because there's people with hard stances on either side of the line who are so entrenched in their opinions that they won't be swayed one way or the other, even if they would agree on having to stop Ludinus if that was the question being posed. Ashton, for example, is pretty staunchly and loudly "fuck the gods" and antagonizing the leadership of Vasselheim (pro-gods for oblivious reasons) even as both sides would agree that Ludinus needs to be stopped. Keeping things focused on the god debate only stands to benefit Ludinus as it gives him more time to enact his plans

[chimeric-art]

literally just vibing

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

Setting aside the knee-jerk 'eeeeew you're in love with your cousin' reaction to Daeran's illusion in Areelu's Lab, I need to talk a second about what a profoundly telling character moment that is for both Daeran and Galfrey.

Daeran refers to Galfrey as the 'Queen of his dreams' and mentions it being twisted by demon logic when questioned. It makes sense that demons would immediately latch on to a psychosexual implication, but it's not about having a crush on her.

The desire to have Galfrey 'out of her armor' is the desire to reconnect with the last member of his family.

He mentions when you ask about his Mother that she was a 'real' mother as opposed to a 'Countess' mother, implying that she was less interested in raising him to be a Proper Noble and more interested in just being present as his only parent. This is indicated in the glimpses we see of his younger self at the party, and in his often-stated resentment towards the necessities of 'proper comportment.'

Galfrey also mentions how close she was to Silaena, referring to her as a 'real' family member, the only person she was truly close to. From the way both of them speak about her, Silaena Arendae was a central, stabilizing part of both of their lives. Galfrey also mentions what a sweet boy Daeran was as a small child, implying a much closer relationship than the current mutual polite revulsion. @thedosianexplorer surmised to me that it's likely Galfrey was once a beloved, comforting figure in young Daeran's life, and I agree. How could she be anything else to the son of someone she so loved? And how awful must it have been to both of them to have that taken away?

Losing the rest of their noble family was certainly a blow, but neither of them even mention their names. The moment Silaena died, however, that was when they were both orphaned. What makes it all the more tragic is the grief that could have brought them closer only served to completely sever their familial connection.

Galfrey has no clue about the true reason Daeran clings so desperately to enjoying life; all she knows is that he may have physically survived but the child she loved was very much dead with the rest of them - in its place an irresponsible, flippant, spoiled brat unwilling to fill the space Silaena left behind. Daeran has no way of communicating the truth to Galfrey, and acts resentfully towards who or whatever else she puts her attention towards, while flaunting his lifestyle at every opportunity.

His lifestyle, as such, is an Emperor's Wardrobe of red flags, but it's hard to see those flags through tunnel vision stained with demon blood. Neither of them are allowed to mourn, but at least Daeran can try to be happy. But as for Galfrey, thedosianexplorer put it best in this hypothetical line:

'How dare you let yourself be happy, I haven't let myself be happy since your mother died.'

The tragedy is that Daeran's need for secrecy and Galfrey's state- and self- imposed martyrdom has created an impenetrable armor between them, and I think is at the heart of the loneliness they both feel. The cruelty of that moment, where the dream of connection is twisted into a mean joke, still sits with me.

[aubrittigan]

Schizoid personality disorder is hell on relationships and safety and I’m getting sick of it. Having such a need for distance and solitude makes it impossible to measure up to what most people consider to be a decent friend. But I keep trying like a dumbass. And falling through. Pleasant chatting online is all I get. That’s all my poor friends get too. I’ve never learned how to connect and honestly it’s viscerally off-putting to do so most of the time, even though I Want it. I WANT to make someone’s day and enjoy life alongside them. Kind of makes a person feel like a monster! I wish I just didn’t care about other people at all… but I do. Empty empty empty

I need to make an oc deal with this, I think it would help somehow.

[max1461]

A moral lesson I wish literally everybody would learn is this: the very same actions that keep you safe when you are powerless can be abusive when you hold power over someone. The difference between resisting subjugation and subjugating others is often more a matter of context than anything else. And when context changes, it can be hard to relearn one's behavior—it requires an active effort. Probably all of us have hurt others needlessly, in some way or another, by doing things out of a reactive instinct for self-preservation. Probably all of us have been hurt by others, sometimes very deeply, when they were acting out of the same instinct.

I don't like speaking about ethics in the language of blame, but insofar as blame is a coherent notion to begin with, I'll say this: neither is anyone evil for the failure to fully rework themselves and free themselves of bad habit after struggle, nor does the difficulty of reworking oneself excuse the abuse of others. Nor, though we may wish otherwise, is it always epistemically possible to our own actions with confidence in one camp or the other. We can only do our best to treat others well and at the same time ourselves, though it is often not clear how.

[holdoncallfailed]

it's all well and good to criticize taylor swift for her private jet usage or her marketing tactics or being a billionaire or her insufferable fanbase but in that kind of moral posturing we must not lose sight of the most fundamental critique of her as an artist and a public figure: her music just doesn't sound very good.

[rosesutherlandwrites]

Struggling a little bit with picking up my pen (opening my laptop) and getting back to work on the wip today after *gestures vaguely* everything. Like, it was always going to be rough getting back down to it after a week off to move halfway across a continent on little more than sheer willpower and hope for a better future, but the way things have fallen out politically in the States is really weighing on a lot of us, no matter where we are and what we have going on.

Anyway I spent some time navel gazing this morning trying to get my head in the game again and ended up coming around to the thing a lot of us creatives have been returning to: All art is political. So, I took a long hard look at what I've written so far, and what it's saying about the world— both "the one we dream about and the one we live in now", to borrow from Anaïs Mitchell—and me, as the person putting it out there.

I wrote A Sweet Sting Of Salt, for fun—as escapism, really, during a period of intense upheaval and loneliness...which also happened to coincide with the first Trump administration. It ended up being a story about freedom, consent, women helping women, defiant queer hope & joy in a difficult time and place, finding beauty and love and community in a harsh world—and a misogynist abuser getting exactly what he richly deserves.

Today, I'm finding comfort knowing that even in what was written as a "simple" historical fairy tale, with no agenda beyond giving lesbians a happy ending in a period drama, there is no denying the queerness and feminism of a worldview that values that happiness.

Anyway, that's me musing on the nature of what I do, and where it fits in the world right in this moment. I'm glad that right now it's making me feel proud and energizing me to go on doing it as long as I possibly can: I'm sufficiently unpacked in my new place to function, so as soon as I send out some day job applications this morning, I'm getting straight back to work on my next queer book which feels like the thing I'm good at that I *should* be doing in this moment. The new one includes a whole through line about solidarity, the inherent violence of throwing others under the bus in an effort to improve one's own lot, and the slippery slope from doing what seems easy and painless and "not that bad" to true evil—I dunno, but that feels real apt at the moment.

All this to say: the work may feel hard but by damn it's my work and I'll keep on doing it until the moss grows over me.

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

The gay boy being in love with his 'straight' best friend is such a trope and its subversion is not rejection, it's reciprocity and mutual queerness. Charles's response wasn't a rejection. It was awe and kindness and support. It was, "I don't know but you are my person and we have eternity to figure it out."

The Dead Boy Detectives is committing to a potential love story between Charles and Edwin in a way I've only read in queer books. The writing is treating the possibility of them with the same weight it is treating the possibility of Charles and Crystal.

Edwin is a main character, his potential romances dominated the narrative, and one of his love interests is another main character whose individual development and relationship with Edwin is beautifully fleshed out.

Do you know how rare that is? How special? It's all I've ever wanted to see happen with queerness in media. For the queer character and their romantic plotlines to have the same space to develop as their counterparts. For their love interests to have (any) extended character and relationship development beyond being rushed in and out of the narrative for fear of alienating a homophobic industry and viewership.

Thinking about how much Dead Boy Detectives doesn't closet Edwin's story, nor the possibility of him and Charles, how much it appears to be pointedly rejecting how queerness has been handled thus far on screen, fills my heart with hope.

[beaft]

today i went through my wardrobe in my childhood room and got rid of a bunch of clothes that i haven't worn for years. i used to dress very manic-pixie-dream-girl: lots of pastels and polka dots, glitter and sequins and ribbons and ruffles, babydoll dresses, rainbow knee socks, candy bracelets, trainers that lit up and flashed when i walked.

i got a little sad while i was bundling it all into boxes - i guess because a part of me still loves those clothes, even though they don't feel like me anymore. transition has been good for me and hard for me in equal measure, because it's forced me to examine who i am beyond my appearance. as a teenager, i was very wedded to the idea of being small and cute and elfin and non-threatening, and i got a lot of euphoria whenever people viewed or described me that way.

but was it a healthy sort of euphoria? some of it was connected to poor body image - i was terrified of being fat, terrified of looking ugly. i don't know if it's good to tie your identity and your happiness to something as ephemeral as prettiness. sometimes the things that make you happy aren't necessarily the things that are best for you. being told that i looked "fragile" made me happy once, but that doesn't mean it was good for me to hear.

when it comes down to it, i think my ultimate goal is to be myself, utterly myself, and for my sense of self-worth to be divorced from other people's opinions. i want to abandon my desire for the approval of strangers. it's the difference between an uncomfortable, itchy designer outfit that you only wear because it gets you compliments, and a boring, comfortable sweatshirt that smells like home.

[mecachrome]

tbh really enjoyed tstallard's btg interview because he directly challenges the idea of "future wdc" being a recognizable quality and instead stresses oscar's growth consistency & rate of improvement... ig it's just nice to hear non-driver voices in a team reiterate that f1 is an amalgamation of circumstance beyond the scope of any one person's sheer ability even when it contradicts easy and common fan/pundit narratives