#paranoid reading

[victoriadallonfan]

I know I’m like half a year late to recommend it, but The Sin Squad just put out a great video on how difficult it can be to find actual dog whistles and problematic material in fiction versus paranoid reading (aka gearing yourself up to find a reading to such things where they might not be intended)

I recommend it for everyone to at least give it a few minutes if your time because it’s some solid work and high quality analysis!

[burningvelvet]

on cancel culture, tumblr, lit crit shit, paranoid reading, and some observations on blogging about byron & the shelleys —

every day someone comments on one of my posts about old dead writers with the most insufferable and reactionary takes disguised under a veil of liberalism. go read eve sedgwick's essay on paranoid reading & reparative reading, and learn how to enjoy things!!! why are you trying to cancel people who died 200 years ago? stop!!!

9/10 times they've never read the writer in question, they just hear that these writers were problematic and without using their own critical thinking skills, and having done zero research, they readily condemn them. no real appreciation for literature, no real appreciation for history or culture. and if they do have these, or if they have done research, it's entirely biased, already marked with judgement (aka exemplary paranoid reading).

i think it's very interesting that percy shelley and lord byron were getting cancelled in their own time period left and right, and now they still face cancellation attempts for some of the same reasons, only now more often at the hands of self-described progressives who feel they do so for the "right reasons."

a major problem in discourse (both in and outside of academia) is that most people do not understand the difference between "criticism" in the academic sense (which is synonymous with "discussion," "analysis," "engagement") and "criticism" in the colloquial sense (synonymous with "condemnation" or "harsh judgement" or even sometimes "attacking").

so when we start talking about literary criticism, some misinformed people automatically seek to cancel every dead writer, burn every book, and disregard all of history, even the progressive bits, because they simply don't care, and think that they are being "critical" and that this is a good thing, when they are using the wrong definition of the term to begin with. if i taught a class on literature the first thing i would do is make the distinction between these two definitions.

a lot of people approach dead writers or old writing in bad faith (paranoid reading). they automatically denounce The Olds for being problematic, and then proceed to believe they are morally superior for their own lack of depth.

percy shelley is one of the most progressive and forward-thinking figures of his generation and it's honestly a miracle that we still have access to some of his works which were literally burned in his own lifetime, but that his friends and most importantly his best friend, his wife mary shelley, carefully preserved during his life and long after his death even in the face of social ruin and censure, because they recognized his immense merit and they desperately loved him and his work. this is a beautiful thing!!!

this isn't the narrative a lot of people prefer, though. a lot of people would have mary shelley, instead of being the publisher and defender of his works as she was, be forced into the role which she herself openly derided, of being percy's unwilling bride, victim, who merely tolerated him, who was herself either repressed or oppressed by him. nor is nuance allowed in this narrative.

this narrative is based on a reactionary stance disguised as progressive. that all women writers are mere victims to the men around them. nevermind the fact that mary shelley's husband was one of her biggest encouragers (as well as her trusted proofreader and editor; and all this also goes for her father godwin, but to a lesser extent, as one could more easily make the argument that godwin did emotionally neglect mary).

paint all male writers as abusive control freaks, and all female writers associated with them as their weak-willed puppets, all based on their biological sex and a surface-level analysis of their biographies. these people are arguably just as bad as the sexist pseudo-scholars who have claimed that percy actually penned the entirety of frankenstein and used mary as his puppeteered pseudonym. as if mary never sought agency of her own and never possessed a modicum of it!

for a fair analysis on percy and mary's connection, i highly recommend Anna Mercer's "The Collaborative Literary Relationship of Percy Bysshe Shelley and Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley" and her interview by Mathelinda Nabugodi for a TLDR version.

i find it interesting that my posts about percy shelley's personal life are not only much more popular than my similar posts about byron (probably due to percy's surname; the mary/frankenstein connection) -- but also that i see way more criticism against percy than against byron.

i think this is partly due to their portrayals in the ahistorical 2018 mary shelley biopic film (see: graham henderson's blog posts on this topic) wherein byron was somehow portrayed as less of an asshole than shelley (which i never would have thought possible had i not seen it). & maybe it has to do with interest in & misconceptions about mary in general. but this is surprising because in many regards, percy really is much more likeable and progressive than byron.

i once had a person hating on byron and trying to argue with me entirely under a post about percy shelley which had nothing to do with byron. whenever i try to critically engage with this sort of backlash on my posts, it is utterly pointless. none of them are interested in or respectful of the opinions of others, nor are they receptive to facts or nuance or engaging with any material in any mature or serious way.

it's especially difficult that they mostly comment on my more popular joking posts/memes, bc that sets up a false pretense for me or my blog to be taken unseriously, when i do take academic figures & topics seriously. my blog is a place for me to unwind and joke about literature, yes, but it's not like i'm just mindlessly joking about writers i've never studied. a lot of people assume that i'm genuinely ridiculing writers when i playfully make fun of them, so they take it as an invitation to do the same, when that's not my case at all.

— back to the percy/byron comparison: in the history of my blog posts, i've seen probably 30+ percy haters and maybe 5 byron haters. as i said, this is honestly bewildering. there are way more justifiable reasons for hating byron than there are for hating shelley.

if we're speaking solely in terms of political, creative, & ideological stances between the two, (and there are hundreds of books/essays comparing their lives/works/philosophies,) i agree and disagree with both of them on various topics. they're both extremely complex writers/thinkers/figures and very different people, despite having been friends.

but if i'm comparing them biographically speaking, if i had to let one of them babysit my children, i would choose percy 10/10 times. if i had to live with one of them, i would choose percy most of the time, although either of them would be tough as a roommate for different reasons.

but overall, percy was a bit more decent biographically speaking, though that doesn't make him a superior writer (percy himself wrote numerous times that he felt byron was creatively superior to him, but morally inferior). and i think most people who've researched the two would agree that percy is the more moral poet by most standards.

for these and many other reasons, it seems apparent to me that the majority of people who hate percy are often parroting the rhetoric of others & not actually thinking for themselves -- which mary endlessly wrote that she despised, as she devoted so much of her time and energy to defending her husband's moral character from critics, so it's especially disappointing that most of the anti-percy sentiment comes from mary shelley fans, who don't even realize how much effort she put into publishing his work and transcribing it as his pre- and posthumous amanuensis.

[zipper-ghost]

I'm afraid I'll forget everything again. What if I forget you, us, who I've become? I don't know if I can start over again

[hinamie]

"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"

some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3

[lurukifennecfox]

Gotham was welcoming of Amity Parkers.

not as loving as with her own but she was way more patient with the people of her friend that any other outsiders.

so the people of Amity those Liminal and aware of her tried to pay her kindness back, to a reasonable degree of course but they could help and she let them stay so they did.

Paulina took it upon herself to make a nice place in the fashion district, she sold some charms to help with the curses as much as she could.

Sam being Sam opened a surprisingly Ivy Approved community garden and was very hard to convince not to join the Eco-terrorist but they managed to, thankfully.

the Fentons designed filters to help the 'Parkers but it was good for the city too if too little to do much.

Val hadn't moved here (yet) but she visited often enough and each visit volunteered somewhere.

Gotham grown to adore them almost as their own, she even hid them from the bats for a while to let them settle (and maybe help her more before her Knight inevitably got paranoid)

Gotham laughed when her King stumbled into her Red Knight, you could hear it in subtle ways the sounds of the night flowed just a little too much like a giggle.

Hood did deserve more good things she's proud of herself!

[thatfantasylovingdork]

This is a really interesting article that reminds me a lot of the cancel culture and purity culture I see sometimes online.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny was...unnerved, which is unusual considering his upbringing as the child of mad scientists obsessed with the undead.

It had been a few weeks since he had moved into Wayne manor after a conflict between batman and his parents, which led to his home and his friends and family being blown up in a lab malfunction. Most of Amity Park was destroyed in the blasts, including Vlad and his mansion.

Usually Danny would be more suspicious of super rich dudes, but the sorrow in Bruce Wayne's eyes as he pleaded to let Danny take him in was genuine and well, Danny didn't exactly have anywhere else to go. Plus, Bruce looked weirdly guilty when danny told him none of this was his fault, which was weird. Jazz was in college and always looked exhausted on video calls, so he didn't want to bother her there.

The part that bothered him most wasn't that there was anything dangerous or bad happening, but rather the opposite.

Danny was used to dodging his home security system when it randomly targeted him. He was used to ghosts popping up out of nowhere to suckerpunch him. He was used to danger.

And now that there was none, he was jumping at shadows.

Things got better when he met Psaro. He was in the process of being either mugged or kidnapped, he wasn't sure, when this angry goth teen with silver hair and ruby eyes literally came in swinging a steel chair. After the beat down and subsequent rescue, Danny offered to buy them some food. Psaro tried to reject the offer until his stomach suddenly growled, making him blush, and Danny dragged the older goth teen to a restaurant.

They've been best friends since. Psaro later introduced him to his friends Rose and Toilen, explaining that they weren't from this world and that Rose was an elf and Toilen was a Teran from a planet called Terrestria. Danny assumed that Psaro was an elf like Rose due to them both having long pointed ears and mostly focused on Toilen thanks to the "other planet" bit.

Meanwhile, the bats have been keeping an eye out on Danny (aka stalking him) and his new, obviously magical friends.

[shavirlight]

The House Was a Funeral Pyre | Louis/Lestat, 74.6k words, rated explicit.

In the cold grime of 1910 Paris, with loud steps over wet pavement, an inebriated group of young bohemians were exiting a small theater and making their way home. They were shouting, rambunctious with laughter, and one of the men was dancing, bathed in the streetlight glow. He was beautiful. Louis watched from the above in the dark, from the top of the steps leading down to the dirty path. He stood between the shadows, and for the first time in almost one hundred years, felt the draw of the warm light below.

My Louis/Lestat role reversal AU fic is finally complete! There's seven chapters, each corresponding with an episode of season one, plus an epilogue. I worked really hard on this story, and I'm honestly pretty proud of it. If you choose to read it, I hope you enjoy!

Art by @alexassan ✨

[kiwifie]

I want to eat with you again forever.

[everestgale]

Inspired by this un-cheated Cheated from @/itsonlypolite and by my un-broken Broken, I started to think about what would un-cold Cold look like (it was also a suggestion from @/neverpathia)

Specifically, I imagined how much Cold would change, wither and, quite literally, grow colder as the Narrator shoves the Long Quiet into the Good Ending. It was a fun exercise to see if I could figure out what Cold would look like before he gets traumatized by the eternity of nothingness and boredom. His frame gets thinner, his feathers get longer and more tattered, and his expression gets more and more done with everything :]

...and then this snowballed! And I started thinking about Paranoid, too:

...not that different from how I normally draw him, except he's got actual eyes! What happened to them?

...the Nightmare happened :]

(This was supposed to be a quick brush test, but then surprise! I really wanted to draw the moment his eyes "break" and turn into the static-y mess they are normally. Also pre-Nightmare Paranoid doesn't need gloves, too! It's only after the Long Quiet's body gets thoroughly paralyzed by Nightmare that he needs them as a sensory item, if that makes sense... I've got a lot of Paranoid HCs-)

[silverskye13]

"I feel crazy," Helsknight said.

Tanguish blinked, the sound of Helsknight's voice pulling him awake when he was just on the teetering edge of sleep. His thoughts had started taking on the fluid, picture-like quality of half-dreams, all over-bright and surreal. The inside of the kitchen, the overhead lights, but in primary colors and tilting shapes. He hadn't even realized he was so close to sleep until Helsknight was speaking. Then Tanguish's eyes were open, and the world was decidedly more mundane.

Tanguish shifted, humming tunelessly, a filler for thoughts he was having trouble forming. At length he asked, "Crazy?"

Helsknight sighed. Tanguish heard it as a deep, hollow huff of air pressed against his ear, lungs filling. Helsknight had collapsed onto the couch, arms around the arm rest, head pillowed over the side. It had been a long day, and he had been tired, and Tanguish had collapsed on top of him, a forming habit. The cold of Tanguish's ice soothed Helsknight's feverish skin, soothed him restful, and Tanguish found the sound of the knight's heartbeat and the hand that occasionally stroked his hair twin comforts.

"Today I was fine," Helsknight said, blinking up at the ceiling. "I was strong, fit, and healthy. My hands didn't shake. My breaths were easy. My thoughts were mine. It was a good day."

Helsknight didn't frown exactly. His eyes were closed, and the scars on his face were pale traces that made the sharp plane of his cheekbone more obvious, and turned his eyebrow into odd segments. Those scars pulled together slightly as his eyebrows drew closer, a line creasing between them. Not a frown exactly, but something that wandered the same avenues of expression.

"It's like last week never happened."

Helsknight opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. He repeated, "I feel crazy."

"Life is good days and bad days," Tanguish said gently, treading his way carefully into the conversation. He rested his chin in the center of Helsknight's chest and gave another tuneless hum, something that rattled in his throat almost like a purr. He hoped it was soothing. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"It feels shameful," Helsknight said, that furrow in his brow deepening, taking on the contours of a proper scowl. "Like I made a big deal out of nothing."

"You believed it was bad enough at the time," Tanguish offered, a reuse of the knight's own words, his oaths about lying. I believed it was true at the time, so no tenet was broken; no sin committed. "I could tell you were hurting."

"I was hurting," Helsknight agreed and sighed again, his eyes closing. "But I should have handled it better."

"Would you begrudge someone their fears over a broken arm, just because in a few months it's healed?"

"It hasn't been a few months. It's been days."

"Time heals needs differently?"

"Tanguish."

"I don't see any logic in these thoughts, Helsknight," Tanguish said gently, letting out another tuneless purr. "Chasing them, I mean. You were hurting, and it knocked you off your feet. You're better now, so today, you were back on them. And it was a good day."

"It was a good day," Helsknight agreed quietly.

"Enjoy it while you have it," Tanguish whispered. He waited patiently for Helsknight to respond, and when he didn't, added a very quiet, "Please?"

Helsknight sighed again. His hand moved to comb through Tanguish's hair with sword-calloused fingers. The touch was warm and gentle, and heavy with weariness.

"I worry about the next bad day," Helsknight said. "It will come again."

"Worry about it when it gets here."

"If I'm not ready and it knocks me off my feet again, what then?"

"Life isn't a siege, knight," Tanguish reminded him. "You don't survive it behind walls and moats."

"But I wouldn't wound anyone else."

"You didn't wound me. You didn't wound anyone." Tanguish tilted his head slightly. "You maybe wounded your own pride?"

The crease between Helsknight's eyes turned into a frown, with wrinkled nose and curled lip, baring half a flash of white teeth.

"It shouldn't hurt your pride to have bad days," Tanguish purred. "It only means you're human like the rest of us."

"I wish I wasn't, sometimes."

"Is it so terrible that I'm human?"

"No."

"And Martyn and EB?"

"Tanguish."

"Join us on the ground," Tanguish told him light-heartedly. "That pedestal looks uncomfortable."

Helsknight passed his hand through Tanguish's hair again, teasing its way through a tangle. Together, they lay on the couch and matched their breathing. The house was quiet and still, and Tanguish was warm and safe. He felt himself teetering again, eyes drooping. A feeling like tilting, and edge to fall over, a world of comfortable dreams opening up over the side. He knew if he opened his eyes again, the feeling would vanish, as would the strange colors and shapes of half-dreams. Ghosts and mists that slipped from remembered thought the moment they were no longer felt, so soft and surreal, they might not exist at all. In the morning, he might not even remember how they felt, only that they passed him over, a vague impression of memory.

"I will try," Helsknight said.

And they slept.

[the-magpie-archives]

People will really say "Jonathan Sims is a good guy!" or "Jonathan Sims is a bad person!" as if a prominent message of his character arc wasn't that no matter who you are, what you do, or how you behave your actions can cause harm or good without intention, and baselessly assigning morals to people who aren't deliberately causing harm is pointless because our view of them is more about how they affect us than how they actually are.

For better or worse, everyone is just a person. We're all both not at fault and entirely to blame.

[passionpeachy]

Wait did you really meet a hot butch on tumblr who likes you back??? We need to know there is hope for the rest of us lmao

here's the crazy thing: they actually reached out to me through dms first because they really liked my art and thought I was cute because of my selfies and usually I'd never give my discord to someone I wasn't extremely familiar with, but they gave me such sweet sincere vibes and I was extremely attracted to their tattoos so I just took a chance and.....yeah. they're genuinely so heart-achingly sweet to me, they comfort me through my nightmares and call me "Azulito" . I'm trying to not get too swept up since we've known eachother for such a short time, but it feels like I'm in a fairytale tbh

[backpackingspace]

Hi yes more unhinged penelope pleaseeee.

[bread-wizards]

I think that Orym actually does doubt Imogen, but this isn't a thing that is unique to Imogen. Orym doubts all of them to an extent, because paranoia is something he struggles with (and this is continuously reinforced by the story).

It's not a 'good' thing that he should never get over, nor is it an immoral character flaw that proves he actually hates Imogen. However it's also not something I think he can get over as long as the threat of having to possibly fight his friends exists.

"I have all the faith in the world in you guys, all of you. And I have also spent time thinking how to neutralize each of you."

[demigodofhoolemere]

Trying to find nice stuff for Wish but everywhere you go people are being painfully wrong in their interpretations of the movie