#this is fully about Scott's perception of himself and his perception of what beauty is

[mielkae]

Consider: Scott who's obsessed with beauty. Scott who, for whatever reason, doesn't like what he sees in the mirror.

Scott who overcompensates.

He shows up to every series dressed to the nines (have you SEEN this man's skins???), paints layers of makeup between himself and the world. He learns the right words to make men feel beautiful, feel sexy. And if he never believes them when they say it back, well, it's only polite to return a compliment.

He puts up a confident front. He makes self aggrandising jokes. He calls himself pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous, and sexy, and can never make himself believe it.

Give me Scott who hides behind layers of product and a confident persona. Who gets called shallow and vain by those who know him less, and sometimes those who know him well.

Scott who can't seem to focus on anything but his face, who blanks when someone asks about his interests, who spends hours in front of the mirror, scrutinising every flaw, every imperfection. Whose skin feels like a shell concealing a hollow interior.

Just, Scott who can't seem to feel pretty.

[gumnut-logic]

The Tattoo (Part Five)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Part Five

Thank you all so much for your wonderful support for this fic. It’s bouncing along and you guys are encouraging me so much ::hugs you all::

This fic is all @vegetacide​ ‘s fault :P

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ @i-am-chidorixblossom​ and @vegetacide​ for all the plot help and reading :D

I hope you enjoy this part :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated medication. Hated it with a violent passion. It messed with everything. Made him dumb, stupid and out of control. And the fog. The post-medication fog was almost as bad as whatever injury he was trying to hide from.

This time was no different. His head was full of cotton wool and it was hard to put two thoughts together.

He knew he was in the infirmary. The crinkle of plastic cotton sheets gave that away. That and the smell. Grandma kept this place clean the old-fashioned way – antiseptic and scrubbing brushes. The fact MAX, one of the most technologically advanced AIs on the planet, often helped her do the cleaning was an oxymoron, but what worked did the job as far as she was concerned.

As usual, he made the same mistake he always made in this situation and tried to move.

He couldn’t help the groan as his arm complained.

“Virg?”

Gordon.

A slow blink and the orange of his little brother’s shirt wobbled into focus. “Gords?”

“Hey, Virg. How are you feeling?”

A grunt and a few more neurons came online. Apparently, apart from some stiffness, only his arm was giving him trouble.

And his head.

Damn fog.

“Been worse.” He focussed on his brother’s face and frowned. “Are you okay?” Gordon’s eyes were red rimmed and strained, his face pale. It was so unlike his little brother’s usual demeanour, alarm bells started ringing and the fog was shoved aside as much as possible. “Gordon, talk to me.” He shoved his good arm under and pushed himself up.

Gordon reacted immediately, shooting up out of his seat and attempting to usher Virgil to lie back on the bed. “Hey, relax, Virgil. I’m f-fine.”

But his sunshine brother’s voice cracked on the last word and Gordon, the brightest ray of light amongst his brothers, WASP agent, survivor, tough as nails IR operative, had a tremble in his voice.

What the hell?

Virgil made vertical, Gordon’s hands attempting to both help and hinder. The world spun for a few long moments, but he was more worried about Gordon. “What’s wrong?”

“Damn it, Virgil, Grandma’s going to kill me if you hurt yourself.”

A breath. “I’m fine.” Focus. He threw off the covers and swung his legs around so he could sit without falling over. His arm was strapped to his bare chest.

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Shit.

Gordon was looking at him with worried eyes. “I can explain.” The words fell from his mouth.

His brother had his hand on Virgil’s good arm. “Virg, please lie down. Grandma’s angry enough already.”

“What?” Damn the fog!

And Gordon was hugging him.

Ever so gently, his arms, so much wirier but no less athletic, seemed so small to Virgil. They always had. Emphasis on the words ‘little brother’.

Virgil’s one good arm returned the embrace as best he could. “Gords, what is it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“What? Gords, I don’t have the brainpower, or the coffee, for a guessing game.” Ugh, medication meant no coffee allowed, damnit!

Gordon stepped back and despite all the aquanaut’s years of experience and full adulthood, all Virgil could see was that scared kid who had lost his remaining parent in a fireball all those years ago.

He grabbed his little brother’s arm. “Gordon, talk to me.”

Strained carnelian eyes. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Your tattoo.”

A swallow. “Because I needed to.” It had been a dark time.

There had been too many dark times.

Gordon’s eyes were focussed on Virgil’s shoulder, now swathed in bandages, likely hiding most of his tally.

“But Cass…”

Virgil’s heart froze. Pain far too recent to face. He couldn’t go there. Not yet.

No, please, not yet.

“It was Dad. And Mom. I…I wanted to acknowledge them. I needed them...with me.” How the hell did he explain it?

How did he explain the gaping holes they had left behind that he could not fill? Their ghosts haunted him in the deep of night. They hovered at the edge of his perception, taunting at being there, but when he turned, they were just as gone as they actually were.

Cass smiled at him in his dreams, his list of unfulfilled promises in her beautiful eyes.

“It helps.” A reminder of reality.

“But all those other dates?”

“A reminder. To try harder. To acknowledge their loss.”

“But-“

“It is my choice, Gordon. It does what I need it to do.”

His brother’s expression altered just a little, resignation creeping in. But then… “I have a book.” It was a whispered admission.

Blink. “What?”

Gordon straightened just a little. “I have a book. With names. Notes. What I remember about them. The ones I couldn’t help.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Gords…” His hand tightened around his brother’s arm.

The aquanaut looked up at him. “I do understand. Perhaps not the medium. But…yeah.” He looked away and sighed. “Dad’s pissed.”

Oh, shit.

“He and Scott had a showdown like I have never seen. It’s like Dad expected Scott to look after us. Like we aren’t adults. Like it was his responsibility.” Gordon’s lips thinned. “And Grandma…hell, Virg.”

And there was the source of the strain in his brother’s eyes. Family could hurt like no other.

“Help me up.” Virgil shuffled to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, god, hell no, Virg. Grandma will have your ass.” He floundered in an attempt to stop Virgil from climbing off the bed.

“Well, apparently, she already has everyone else’s, so I’ll just add it to her collection.” His feet hit the floor and he wobbled. But a little more spine and he was fully upright, still dressed in his grubby jeans.

The remains of his shirt lay on a chair in the corner. A few unsteady steps and he grabbed it. With his arm strapped up, it would be enough to hide his shame.

“Virg, don’t do this.”

“Could you please help me with my shirt?”

His brother sighed. “Damnit, Virgil, Grandma, Dad and Scott are all going to kill me for this.”

“Not your fault.” He fumbled with flannel and the material slipped from his fingers to fall to the floor. For the love of…!

But Gordon was there. His hands picked up the shirt and draped it across Virgil’s shoulders, helping him into the one remaining sleeve and buttoning it up to hold it in place best the ruined piece of clothing could do.

“Thanks, Gordon.”

His brother was not impressed. “You can put that on my headstone.”

“This is not on you.”

“It’s not on Scott either, but that doesn’t seem to matter.”

Virgil straightened as best he could. “I’ll fix it.”

“Virg-“

A hand on his brother’s shoulder, he tipped his head down a little for emphasis, grabbing his brother’s eyes with his own. “I’ll fix it.”

Gordon still wasn’t happy, but he put his hand over Virgil’s for just a moment. “I’m coming, too. Even if all I can do is prevent you from falling on your face. I’m dead either way, anyway.”

“This is not on you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Virgil sighed, let his hand drop and turned towards the door.

Steps a little wonky, he went looking for the rest of his family.

To kick his own share of asses.

-o-o-o-

End Part Five

Part Six

[starryknight09]

One last good-bye

Febuwhump Day 15: “Run. Don’t look back”

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“Run.  Don’t look back.” Rhodey pushed him forward.  Peter stumbled, looking at the man in shock.

“Go!” Rhodey yelled.  This time Peter listened.  He knew he’d be useless in this fight.  And Rhodey could fly.  Peter couldn’t.  Sure, he could swing, but only when there was something to stick to, which didn’t exist in the middle of this rocky wasteland.

He took off, sprinting as fast as he could in the direction of the Quinjet, not looking back.  They’d wandered far enough away that the Quinjet was out of sight, so he hoped he was going in the right direction.

“Helping Dr. Strange will be fun, you thought.” He mumbled to himself as he ran.  “Yeah right.”

He could hear the repulsors firing from the War Machine armor but the sound was barely audible over the stampede of all those things running at them.  He wanted to glance back to make sure Rhodey was ok, but he knew he couldn’t chance it.  He didn’t need his super hearing to hear the creatures gaining on him.  Rhodey could take care of himself.  He was a big boy.  A louder bang sounded in between repulsor blasts.  Rhodey must be pulling out the bigger fire power.

Run. He thought to himself.  Don’t turn around.  Don’t turn around.

Why had they ever agreed to help Dr. Strange in the first place?  This was way beyond his pay grade.  Some other evil wizard was messing around with bad sorcery and now Peter was running from weird spooky undead creatures.

“Karen.” He gasped.  “Any luck with the comms?”

“I’m sorry Peter.  Something is still jamming my communication abilities.”  Damn.

They never should’ve split up.  Whose bright idea had that been anyway?  Right.  Sam’s.  Peter hadn’t known him before, but it seemed like the whole being Captain America thing had kind of gone to his head.

“The enemy creatures are gaining on you.” Karen warned.

“I’m aware!” He tried to run faster but he didn’t think it worked.  He knew it’d be bad news bears if any of these things bit him.  Dr. Strange had been clear enough about that.  His only consolation was that he was in the Ironspider suit, so if bullets couldn’t pierce it, he was pretty sure these ugly things teeth couldn’t.  But he wasn’t absolutely 100 percent sure.  Besides, the suit wouldn’t save him if was overrun by these things.  The sheer number of them would crush him.  Not a great way to go.

They were getting so close he could smell them and the pungent smell of rotting flesh and garbage made him want to gag.  

Must run faster.  Must run faster.

Finally, the Quinjet came into view.  Oh thank god.

“I recommend you increase your velocity.  At this current pace you will not reach the Quinjet before you’re overrun.” Karen informed him.

Shit.

“Help!” He screamed, hoping another group had returned to the Quinjet and would hear him.  “A little help!”

A growl sounded behind him.  Way too close.  He turned around.  And immediately regretted it.  Man, they were as ugly as they were stinky, and he only had about a thirty foot lead on them.

This was not good.  This was so not good.

In the split second he glanced backward, he tripped.  He flew through the air before crashing to the ground and rolling across the rock laden dirt terrain.

I’m going to die.  This is how Spiderman goes?  Really?  He thought as he tumbled.

The instant he stopped, he rocketed back to his feet and started running again, even though he knew it was pointless.  Those things were right behind him.  He didn’t want to turn around and look.  He didn’t want to know when death would be coming.

But then from one second to the next, he had an idea.  He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.  Sure, he didn’t have firepower and he couldn’t fight these things hand to hand, but he still had his webs.  Just because they couldn’t swing him anywhere didn’t mean they were useless.  He spun back around, trying not panic at the fact that the creatures were only like ten feet away as he shot his webs out across the entire line of them, sticking them together.

They fell and that caused their comrades behind them to trip over them and fall as well like a line of dominos.  It wasn’t a definitive solution, but it’d bought him some time.  The Quinjet was getting closer, and now he could see people running down the ramp toward him.  Sam and Bucky.  Wanda and Clint.  Scott and Professor Hulk.  Dr. Strange.

He wasn’t going to die after all!

And then the other wizard guy showed up.

Ok.  Maybe he’d spoke too soon…

Dr. Strange glided through the air to meet the other wizard guy in a collision of colors.  Peter thought his gold sparkle transporting rings looked cool, but whatever spell he’d just cast put them to shame.  Multicolored glitter sparkles fell from the sky like rain, landing on his skin but not hurting him.  They rested there for a few seconds before fading away.  A moment later he realized the noise behind him had greatly decreased.  He risked a quick glance backward and gaped.  Any creature touched by the glitter stuff started gradually fading away until they disappeared altogether.

It took him another few strides to realize he didn’t need to run anymore.  Nothing was chasing him.  Dr. Strange had eradicated the entire undead creature herd with one spell.  Wow.  There was definitely something to be said about the magic or mystical arts or whatever the man called it.

“Kid?  You ok?” Sam asked, reaching him a few seconds after he’d stopped.  The man clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked him up and down.

“Yeah.” He answered as he tried to catch his breath.  “I’m good.  So…now what do we do?”

Sam glanced up at Strange fighting the other wizard guy, the two of them periodically clashing in the air as they both fired colorful spells.  If it’d been dark out Peter could’ve almost made believe he was watching fireworks.

“Hell if I know.” Sam admitted.  “I draw the line at street magicians.  This wizard shit is beyond me.”

Peter huffed out a laugh.

“Hey, where’s Rhodey?” He hadn’t seen the man since he’d ran and hoped he was ok.  He couldn’t imagine the man hadn’t gotten away with the War Machine armor.  He took a few steps back in the direction he’d came, searching the horizon.

“Don’t worry.  He’s right there.  See?” Sam pointed up in the sky where Rhodey was flying toward them.

Right.  He didn’t know how he’d missed him.  His heart rate slowed.  Mr. Stark’s best friend was fine.  Peter hadn’t been able to save his mentor, but he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his family, not if he could help it.  And Rhodey was definitely part of Mr. Stark’s family.

“Watch out!” Sam yelled, but the warning came too late.  He’d been so focused on Rhodey he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the wizards battling.  His spidey sense flared in warning, but too late.  He tried to dive out of the way, but the range of the spell’s blast heading toward him was too large to evade.  The globe of red light enveloped him, and everything went black.

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he sat up before he was even fully awake, the adrenaline from the battle still churning through him.  He’d been hit.  Where was he hit?  He ran his hands over the front of his body and looked down at it, but he didn’t see any blood.  And nothing hurt.  But…wait.  What?  Why wasn’t he wearing his Spiderman suit?

“Ok.  What the hell.” He mumbled to himself, holding his hands up in front of his face as if they could tell him.  But they were bare.  And he had on jeans ith one of his science pun t-shirts, which was the outfit he’d been wearing before he’d put on the Ironspider suit earlier.  Weird.  Last he’d checked he’d left his clothes in the Quinjet.  Maybe someone had changed him out of his suit and into his clothes?  He frowned.  That made no sense.  

Where was the Quinjet anyway?  Everything was a lot quieter.  He glanced around, taking in his new surroundings, and his face slackened in shock.  Because he definitely wasn’t in the barren rocky wasteland where they’d been fighting that wizard.  In fact, his surroundings didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before.  Was he even on Earth?

“Oh shit.  Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” He muttered.

The ground he sat on looked like water, but its surface was solid.  He slapped his palms down and watched as ripples expanded outward from them, like what would happen if you dropped a stone into water.  But he wasn’t wet or sinking.  Ok.  This was officially freaky weird.

“Where am I?” He whispered and stood, doing a full circle to try to orient himself.  It didn’t help.  Everything looked the same.  The weird blackish blue ground he stood on stretched out as far as the eye could see.  No other pieces of landscape pierced it.  The line of the horizon was only perceptible because the blue of the air was just a shade lighter than the ground.  The whole aesthetic was dizzying and kind of trippy.

And then he looked up.

“Holy shit.” His heart leapt into his throat.  The sky was a dark expanse of stars and galaxies.  And he could see a few large planets that looked almost close enough to touch.  It was terrifyingly beautiful.  He reached out and tried to poke at one of the closer ones, a red giant with rings.  It was too far away to actually touch, but the spot where his finger poked made the air ripple out in the same way it had on the ground, like the atmosphere was composed of gelatin that jiggled when touched.

“What the hell...” He definitely wasn’t on Earth.  What kind of spell had he been hit with?  Had he been transported somewhere?  Banished?  Was it reversible?

“Underoos.” Came a voice from behind him.

Peter stiffened.  He hadn’t heard that voice in months.  The last time had been on a rubble strewn battlefield, fighting for his life, and the life of the entire universe.  Terror gripped him.  He was afraid to turn around, and at the same time, he’d never wanted to do anything more in his whole life.  He turned.  And there he was.  Mr. Stark.  Standing there without a care in the world, hands in his pockets with sunglasses on and a characteristic grin on his face.

“Mr. Stark.” He whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

“Hey kid.” The man’s eyes softened as he took him in.

Peter just stared, brain unable to comprehend that this could possibly be real.  He didn’t know what to say.  He’d imagined so many times what he’d say if he ever saw Mr. Stark again, but now he could barely make his mouth move to form words.

“But—  How—” He stammered, not even sure what he was trying to ask, and then a thought struck him and his eyes widened as he asked, “Am I dead?”

“No.” Mr. Stark reassured him then clarified, “Well, not technically.”

“What does that mean?  Not technically dead?  So, am I not technically alive either?” His tone got higher pitched even as he tried not to panic.  He knew there were more important things to talk to Mr. Stark about, but he couldn’t think about anything else until he knew what was happening to him.

“You’re in the in between.” Mr. Stark explained.

He frowned.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” The man said, face showing his disapproval.  And Peter couldn’t help the small smile that cracked across his face.  He’d missed those looks from Mr. Stark.

“Then how do I go back?” He asked.

Mr. Stark shook his head.  “There’s nothing you can do.  We just have to wait.”

Not the most comforting answer.  “But if I’m in the uh in between, how are you here?”

“It’s too complicated to explain, but let’s just say I’m here to keep you company.” Mr. Stark smiled again.

And Peter finally let himself enjoy the fact that he was standing there with Mr. Stark.  Something he’d wished for more than anything.  He wasn’t going to waste it even if his own fate was uncertain.  In the next second, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around the man.  He was substantial.  Whole.  Mr. Stark wrapped his arms around him and hugged him right back.

Tears welled in his eyes, and he didn’t know how that was even possible, just like he didn’t know how he could hug his mentor since supposedly neither of them had bodies right now, but it was happening all the same.  

“I missed you.” Peter whispered into the man’s neck.

Mr. Stark brought a hand up to the back of his head and tangled it in his hair.  “I missed you too kid.”

Peter didn’t know how long they stood there hugging.  Not that it mattered.  Time didn’t exist in this place.  He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

And Tony didn’t say anything.  And he didn’t pull away.  He just kept holding him.  For as long as Peter wanted.

Peter tried to soak it all in and memorize every detail of the moment.  The smell of Mr. Stark’s aftershave, the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his embrace, how absolutely protected and safe he felt.  He tucked away every sensation and feeling so when he needed to in the future, he could close his eyes and recall it.  Because he knew he’d never get another chance at this.  

“It’s not fair.” The words came out before he’d even decided to say them.

“I know.” Tony agreed.

“I wish you could come back with me.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Do you…do you regret it?” He whispered his question.  One of the things he’d always wondered.

“No.” Tony answered without hesitation.

“Why?”

“Because there was no other way.”

That was true enough.  Dr. Strange had told Peter something similar.  If Mr. Stark hadn’t snapped, they would’ve lost and everyone would’ve died.

“But do you regret inventing time travel?  You could’ve lived a full life with Pepper and Morgan.” Peter had always felt like he’d been partially responsible for taking that away from him.  The way everyone had told the story, he’d been the catalyst for Mr. Stark inventing time travel.  And now he got to have this time with Mr. Stark when Morgan or Pepper never would, and that made him feel even more guilty.

“No I couldn’t have.” The man said pulling away so he could cup Peter’s face in his hands.  “Because I didn’t have you.”

The tears in Peter’s eyes slid silently down his cheeks.  “I wish you wouldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t.  I had to.  No regrets.” Tony smiled at him and Peter marveled at how it could be so soft and so sad at the same time.  “I love you kid.”

“I love you too.” He said back and fell forward back into a hug.  After another long minute or so, Peter gathered enough self control to pull away again.  He couldn’t stay glued to the man forever.  No matter how much he may want to right now.

As Mr. Stark let him go, he kept his hands resting on Peter’s shoulders, and Peter remembered another thing he wished he’d gotten the chance to say when Mr. Stark had been alive.  The man had done so much for him. Had become something of a father figure to him.  And he’d never verbalized his appreciation in any way.

“I uh I never thanked you.” He said.

“You never had to.”

“Still, I want to.  Thank you.  For everything.”

“You’re welcome Pete.” Mr. Stark smiled.  “But no thanks are necessary.”

“Is there anything I can—"

“I don’t think we have much time left.” Mr. Stark interrupted with a frown.

“Oh.” A short burst of panic hit him.  He didn’t want to leave Mr. Stark.  “What-what if I want to stay?”

“No.” Mr. Stark answered firmly.  “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your time yet.”

“So I can’t choose to stay?” He asked, but even as he did, he knew he never would.  He couldn’t do that to everyone he loved at home no matter how much he missed Mr. Stark.

“No.  That’s not how it works.  And you wouldn’t really want to stay anyway.” Mr. Stark said in his typical all-knowing fashion.

“I know.” He said sadly and then asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Shoot.”

“What’s it like here?”

Tony gave him a peaceful smile, eyes twinkling as he answered, “Wonderful.”

It didn’t fix anything, but it was a small consolation at least.  A weird feeling started somewhere near his belly and spread, like a buzzing, tugging sensation.

“Time to go Pete.” Mr. Stark said, his smile turning sad.

“Mr. Stark.” He whined and leaned forward to give him one last hug.  He hated the feeling of being torn away from him.  Hated how similar this whole thing felt to getting dusted on Titan.

“I know.” Mr. Stark shushed as Peter clung to him.  “But it’s ok buddy.  It’s going to be ok.”

Peter gripped him tighter, but he could tell it was a battle he was going to lose.

“Bye kid.  I love you and I’m so proud of you.” Mr. Stark whispered.

“I love you too.” He said frantically, worried any second he’d be torn away and unable to finish what he wanted to say.  “And I miss you so much.”

He tried to hold on, but in the next moment, he was finally ripped away.

“No.” He protested desperately.  “Tony!”

“Tony!” The man’s name was still on his lips as his eyes snapped open.

“Hey, you’re ok.” Rhodey said from where he was crouched down next to him.

“I…I…what?”

“That wizard guy hit you with a spell, but Strange finally figured out how to reverse it.” Rhodey explained.

Peter blinked and looked around, recognizing his surroundings.  He was lying on a couch in the Sanctum.  It all came back to him.  The fight.  The other wizard guy.  Getting hit by the red spell.  Mr. Stark.

“I saw Mr. Stark.” He blurted out and Rhodey’s eyes widened.  

“I did.  I saw him.” He insisted, worried the man wouldn’t believe him.

Rhodey looked up at someone behind Peter’s head.  Peter craned backward and noticed Dr. Strange standing there, a neutral expression on his face.

“It’s possible.” Dr. Strange said.  “The spell sent him somewhere where he was neither alive nor dead.”

“Mr. Stark called it the in between.”

Dr. Strange nodded and Rhodey looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Interesting that Stark was able to cross over into that place.” Dr. Strange said.  “You must have a strong connection with him for that to have been possible.”

Peter nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered all that they had said.

Rhodey kept staring at him, his mouth open like he wanted to ask something but couldn’t figure out what.  If it’d been him, Peter knew what he’d want to know, so he answered the man’s wordless question.  

“He’s ok.”  Peter said with a small smile.  “He’s happy.”

[communisticrevolution]

I wrote another essay about homoeroticism - this one’s on The Great Gatsby

I’m not sure if anyone cares about this because I can’t envision The Great Gatsby fandom being as desperate for such content as the Lord of the Flies one, but I hope that anyone who can be bothered to read enjoys it! Thank you for all the positive feedback, and check out The Great Gatsby if you haven’t already :))

-

Although on a purely superficial level, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald is a blatantly obvious examination of the American Dream, the shallowness of the upper classes, and the underlying corruption and hedonism perpetually underpinning affluent 1920s society, an alternative and previously analysed reading of the novel lies partially below the surface, yet evident enough to possess a significant critical following. This theme is, undeniably, homoeroticism, perhaps hidden and coded implicitly within the text to disguise still criminalised components, but crucially important, particularly from the perspective of understanding Nick Carraway’s narration, and the nature of his conspicuous bias towards Jay Gatsby which skews his reliability significantly when recognised by the reader. Despite his proclamation at the end of Chapter 3 stating that his ‘cardinal virtue’ is that he is ‘one of the few honest people that I have (he has) ever known,’ from the beginning of his subjective account of events, his descriptions of others suggest that his statement of being ‘inclined to reserve all judgments’ on the first page is contradicted by his profiling of others, both physically and in regards to their personalities. This is almost relentless and lacking in exclusive scrutiny, offering an insight which appears to be detached, consequently lulling the reader into believing Carraway’s points surrounding his allegedly objectively accurate retelling of the summer – however, even before this, Nick admits the one major and vital fault of his perception, which is Gatsby. Even as it becomes clear to all parties that Gatsby is, in many ways, extremely morally flawed (he is an illegal bootlegger by profession, he is obsessive and somewhat manipulative of Daisy, he facilitates and encourages her infidelity, he is fixated on materialistic wealth, and he frequently lacks consideration for others if it ensures his ability to pursue his ambitions), to Nick, he represents ‘everything for which I have (he has) unaffected scorn.’ For our narrator, this character is symbolic of hope, success, and romance, and when the inherently decaying American Dream inevitably collapses, as exhibited by Gatsby’s murder towards the end of the plot, Nick’s portrayal in hindsight is not altered by Jay’s faults, but by his positive attributes. Prior to a genuine introduction with a scene involving the two, Nick writes that ‘there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life,’ and this permeates all. Regardless of whether or not the assumption is made that Nick is describing merely Gatsby’s metaphorical and figurative role in the story, it is clear since the book commences that his perception of the titular man could, in many ways, be interpreted as one of intense passion and attraction, far beyond the platonic relationships he has with other individuals, and later extending to him conveying the physical beauty that is highly appealing to him concerning Gatsby. Even Nick’s love interest, Jordan Baker, is not exempt from his reproval, and is, in fact, articulated to be ‘dishonest,’ with negative and emotionally lacklustre depictions that prompt questions surrounding the easily debatable strength and plausibility of his romantic interest in her.

One major scene that is consistently referenced and considered to be majorly indicative of Nick’s sexual orientation occurs very early on into the novel towards the end of Chapter 2 – it is incredibly subtle and often overlooked especially by first time readers due to the cryptic nature of its language and the seemingly comparatively unimportant series of events that ensue. In fact, one could argue that there is generally very little need to include such a scene, and thus contemplate why Fitzgerald decides to do so regardless. Usually, from a literary perspective, for something to be rendered worthy of inclusion, it must serve to develop plot, characters, or a specific setting and atmosphere in adherence to overriding themes, and the focus upon Nick, still as a relatively submissive bystander who is simultaneously immersed enough to offer a narrative insight, indicates that the only feasible value available must be revolving around his character development. The plot is not advanced as the occurrences are entirely overlooked and left with no true contextual repercussions, and the setting at this point is not focal nor enhanced with adjectives and figurative language that would suggest a distinct relationship between the whole surrounding set of dates and the West and East Egg regions which become recurring areas with allocated symbolic values, and ergo this being the reason.

Here, most notably, Fitzgerald must be attempting to prove or infer something about Nick Carraway, which I believe, largely due to substantial implicit evidence within the text, to be referring primarily to one of the many factors culminating to formulate his broad unreliability; a sense of sexual ambiguity, and the blatantly apparent evasion and withholding of information, but still without avoidance of the subject in its entirety, implied by the use of ellipses to signify both time passing and suppressed detailing of the true events. In regards to homoerotic subtext, this component potentially begins with the description of Mr McKee, the character that Nick purportedly has an affair with, as ‘pale’ and ‘feminine’ upon first encounter, two adjectives directly referencing a lack of masculinity and, in turn, the stereotype of effeminate fragility typically associated with homosexual men. His involvement in the ‘’artistic game’’ has, again, subtextual connotations with homosexual and, possibly to a lesser extent, bisexual males, as the following of artistic pursuits was perceived to be more traditionally feminine, and perhaps later adhering to forms of aestheticism and the almost synonymously analogous and prominent figure of Oscar Wilde, who was and still is renowned for both aesthetic and philosophical reasons and his historical persecution for gross indecency. With this evocation of Mr McKee in mind, suggesting his lack of conformity to societal norms through sexual deviation, at around 10 o’clock, Nick wipes ‘from his cheek the spot of dried lather’ that had ‘been bothering him’ over the course of the evening, a remarkably intimate gesture, and an otherwise broadly inexplicable fixation within the context of this man’s likely homosexuality. Later, Mr McKee proceeds to leave the room, and Nick follows without hesitation, implying almost a non-verbal communication which results in the scene in the elevator, laden with highly euphemistic linguistic choices. Mr McKee uses the command ‘Come to lunch with me some day’ in a manner reminiscent of an individual asking another out in a cryptically heteronormative tone, coupled with the pair ‘groaning’ down the elevator, a verb synonymous with overtly sexual onomatopoeia. Nick agrees, saying he’ll ‘be glad to,’ perhaps an admission to both the reader and Mr McKee that the feeling implied by the latter is to some extent reciprocated, indicating that Nick himself is not heterosexual. Just before this, a ‘lever’ is incorporated which Mr McKee is shunned for allegedly touching, seemingly a clear phallic symbol due to its vague resemblance of a penis, reinforcing the layers of homoerotism and the ambiance leading up to a romantic or sexual encounter involving the two characters that have distanced themselves from the overwhelming group, potentially a metaphor for the exclusion and separation of the LGBT community necessary for protection in an intolerant outside world. This scenario, abruptly led and finished with a series of ellipses, concludes with Nick, our narrator, ‘standing beside his (Mr McKee’s) bed,’ as Mr McKee is ‘sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.’ Nick ends up at a train station waiting for the ‘four o’ clock train,’ leaving what truly happened with Mr McKee largely a mystery, but the aforementioned’s nakedness and the presence of a bed, as well as the feasibly metaphorical ‘portfolio,’ all indicate that a sexual encounter took place between the two, as little other explanation is given for the passing of six hours shown to have been almost exclusively in each other’s company. As always, Nick’s bystander-esque lack of involvement even in situations centring predominantly around him leaves room for plausible deniability; maybe the scene is exclusively a reflection on Mr McKee’s sexual orientation and subsequent moral perversion, or, more significantly, Nick’s willingness to go along with anything without reaffirming his own beliefs or desires, painting him as a fully submissive and detached narrator. Regardless, this relatively brief passage is undeniably dense in highly homoerotic content, portraying Nick largely as a closeted homosexual (or simply a heterosexual man who had a short and sexually intimate relationship with someone of the same gender, but this is far more difficult to believe in the surrounding circumstances), with this conveying an image of both and unreliable narrator and one who could conceivably be infatuated with the protagonist (Gatsby).

Nick’s relationship with Gatsby is vital throughout the novel, in both plot and in how Nick chooses and is capable of narrating a story focusing mainly upon the latter – one which is, evidently, biased invariably in his favour, even amidst ethical decay and his eventual death, which appears to influence Nick far more profoundly than the others, all of whom decide to abandon Gatsby by not attending his funeral as the book comes to a close. Despite the brevity of the period in which they interact and become extremely close, Nick organises the majority of Gatsby’s funeral, as previously mentioned, is loyal to him throughout with consistently lacking personal gain, offers him advice and support, and after his death, decides to write a memoir framing him in an overwhelmingly positive and complimentary manner, one which is likely far from the reality of his existence and impact upon others. Physically, Nick is evidently immensely attracted to Gatsby; when his love interest is given an unenthusiastic paragraph with phrases including ‘I enjoyed looking at her’ and emphasis upon her more masculine features and attributes (‘small-breasted,’ and ‘like a young cadet’), Gatsby’s intrigue is delivered impactfully, with several sentences dedicated to his smile alone, which is stated to have had ‘a quality of eternal reassurance in it.’ The last interaction between Nick and Jay consists of a long and emotional confession delivered by the latter, involving the true history of his origins, a story which he escapes explicitly mentioning, denies, and formulates lies to detract from right up until the end of the text, signifying that the bond established between both men may even be greater than the romanticised superficiality of Gatsby’s infatuation and fixation with Daisy. Whether or not Gatsby ever truly loved her is easy to speculate, with the most common theory being that he was simply enamoured with an idea that he had attached to her for his own sanity and aspirations – in a more uncommon homosexual reading of Gatsby, perhaps he ascribes an idea of the American Dream, wealth, success, and integration with the ‘old-money’ elite to her as a means of distracting from his real sexual and romantic interests, although this is admittedly far from substantiated. Nick finishes the dialogue with allegedly the ‘only compliment I (he) ever gave him,’ which is stated as written: ‘’They’re a rotten crowd,’ I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.’ Gatsby responds to this with his ‘radiant and understanding smile,’ one glimpse of a world in which Nick’s love for him may have not been so apparently unrequited, and potentially a revelation into the growing mutuality of what could have been a romance in different circumstances. Nick’s description of Gatsby and his actions is close to being perpetually complimentary, and usually resumes to this position quickly when it falters, so this reinforces his unreliability and a degree of obliviousness to his own feelings and emotions, whilst simultaneously demonstrating to the reader what is already salient at most levels of observance – that Nick views Gatsby and his worth above all others, including his friend of many years, Tom, his cousin, Daisy, and his romantic interest, Jordan. This level of attraction and love is usually reserved to forms outside of what is known to be platonic, suggesting that what Nick feels for Gatsby also transcends friendship. In Tom and Nick’s last interaction, Tom states that Gatsby ‘threw dust into your (Nick’s) eyes just like he did in Daisy’s,’ conveying that he might himself have deemed Nick and Gatsby’s relationship to be of a similar nature to Daisy and Gatsby’s. Gatsby ‘throwing dust’ into her eyes was a way of performing a romantic illusion that caused her to fall in love with him, implying that Nick also fell in love with Gatsby as he became similarly enchanted by his hope, dedication, and beauty, leading into his romanticised retelling of the man himself.

Ultimately, I personally believe that homoeroticism is definitely existing and, at times, prevalent within The Great Gatsby, and that above all, it is critical to Nick’s characterisation and generating an acceptable explanation of his behaviour and actions, as well as his identity as a character. Many of his attributes, such as his submission and tendency to behave as a bystander in his own life and social interactions, could be found as possessing origins in both a desire to fit in as a social chameleon and avoid extreme scrutiny under the masculine ideal, and also in the repressed identity exhibited by a vast number of sexual minorities in communities and historical contexts of heightened intolerance, where it would be necessary for non-heterosexual individuals to conform to norms and avoid confrontation. In Chapter 7, as Nick remembers that it is his birthday, he reflects on ‘the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know,’ a poignant evaluation to finish this essay with – adhering to his consistent writing style and internal monologue, Nick focuses on men here, not women, avoiding the topic of getting a wife and settling down into the rhythm of 1920s America, and instead accentuating his declining list of opportunities in romantic prospects, as well as concentrating on the ‘promise of loneliness’ that homosexuality undoubtedly was prior to at the very least decriminalisation. He will remain incapable of finding love and fulfilment in the sense that others can with relative ease, and he will continue to restrict his personal identity and expression for safety in the aftermath of the death of arguably his only true friend (and genuine romantic interest), with even Gatsby failing to treat him with equal respect and admiration. Some argue that the true tragedy of The Great Gatsby lies in the story of unrequited love detailed by the narrator, and I would not fully dispute this; this great American novel is, on the surface, a story surrounding the corruption of the American Dream, capitalism, disillusionment, and the ethically abhorrent upper classes, but more obscurely, it could potentially be interpreted as an enlightened representation of closeted sexual identity, genuine love (not concerning Daisy and Gatsby), and unreliability in narration.

[daresplaining]

Are there any instances where superhero’s would give Daredevil something to look at and he has to wing it/ tell the truth that he’s blind?

    Yes, there are! This happens all the time, and not just with other superheroes. My favorite example is a major moment in DD history: when Ben Urich uses this exact strategy to get Daredevil to reveal his secret identity.

[ID: Excerpt from McKenzie’s Daredevil run. Daredevil is wearing head bandages and a hospital gown (over his costume). Ben Urich sits next to him, a lit cigarette in his mouth, and holds up a photograph.]

Ben: “It’s the story of a lonely little boy blinded by a freak accident. And it’s the story of how he overcame his handicap to become a successful lawyer and a Man Without Fear. It’s your story, Matthew Murdock, and I can prove it!”

Matt: “Now just a minute, Ben! You can’t seriously believe I’m–”

Ben: “Well, if you’re not Matt Murdock and if you’re not blind, just describe this photograph to me and I’ll leave. I’ll forget the whole thing.”

Matt: “Photo–? Ben, I… I really don’t feel like playing games. I’m not Matt Murdock, I’m certainly not blind– and I don’t see why I have to prove anything to you. It’s none of your business… who I am. It’s… it’s… it’s true…”

Daredevil vol. 1 #164 by Roger McKenzie, Frank Miller, and Glynis Wein

    I love this interaction– the facial expressions, Matt’s flustered struggle to come up with an excuse, its significance as the start of a beautiful friendship, the fact that Ben barged into Matt’s hospital room (while smoking!) to get this interview– and it’s a testament to how vulnerable Matt is to this sort of situation. Years later, after Matt has faked his death and reappeared as a “new” Daredevil during Chichester’s run, Ben uses this same ruse to check if his friend is actually still alive. Sadly, what could have been a moving/hilarious recreation of this iconic scene is ruined by some silly sensory writing. 

[ID: Ben confronts Daredevil, who is dressed in the black and red armored costume from the end of Volume 1, on a darkened rooftop. Ben hands Daredevil his wallet, which contains a photo of himself and his wife Doris.]    

Ben: “Tell me about this picture.”

Caption: “Ben Urich has played this bluff before, to prove Matt Murdock and Daredevil were one and the same. Make a blind man describe a photograph. It worked then. Murdock can’t afford to let it work again.”

Matt: “Sure… okay. Bring it over here in the light were I can see it…”

Caption: “Light and dark areas absorb degrees of heat from the lamp above. Enough difference to paint a crude picture for hypersensitive fingertips. Some deductive guesswork on the photos a man might carry in his wallet. All adding up to enough for a stab in the dark.”

Matt: “That’s you… and she’s your wife?”

Daredevil vol. 1 #339 by Alan Smithee, Alexander Jubran, and Christie Scheele

    Sigh…

    In any case, as I mentioned, Matt (as Daredevil) is frequently confronted with these types of situations, thanks to people’s assumptions that he can see. The degree of success he has in maintaining that illusion of sightedness varies. Below are a few of my other favorite moments.

    This is another major one, and another rare instance in which Matt decides he has no choice but to reveal that he’s blind. During his early adventures in San Francisco, he develops a brief alliance/friendship/romanic tension with the cosmic hero Moon Dragon. When she gets seriously injured, Matt is the only person around to operate the machine that will save her life. Unfortunately…

Matt: “Moon Dragon… there’s no way I could grasp this–”

Moon Dragon: “Please… just… do exactly as… I say… Begin… with the… yel… yellow… dial… turn to… Dare… devil… what is… wrong? Begin…”

Matt: “I– I can’t!! Moon Dragon… I–I’m blind!”

Daredevil vol. 1 #106 by Steve Gerber, Don Heck, and George Roussos

    Being a cosmic entity, Moon Dragon deals with this inconvenience by casually restoring Matt’s vision. He asks for it to be removed again shortly afterward because he finds it annoying. 

    I pointed out Matt’s hand-wave-y deciphering of Ben’s photo (and Matt also mentions feeling colors in the Moon Dragon scene), and while that sort of thing has mostly been abandoned, unfortunately it informed many of these types of moments in early Daredevil stories. Rather than acknowledging the limits of Matt’s perception, the writers would simply skew and amplify his other senses to explain the problem away, as in this moment in Roy Thomas’s run: 

[ID: Daredevil is leaning on Foggy Nelson’s desk. Foggy hands him a newspaper, and Daredevil (with his gloves on!) runs his fingers over the front page.]

Matt: “Tell me– who were the joy boys?”

Foggy: “This paper will explain things…! Read it and weep!”

Matt: “Let me pore over this for a minute! (–’Specially since I’ve got to do my speed-reading casually– with my fingers doing the walking!)”

Daredevil vol. 1 #68 by Roy Thomas, Gene Colan, and Artie Simek

And this even more extreme example from the same run: 

[ID: Daredevil (still with his gloves on!) is running his fingers over a framed photograph, while a tearful Karen Page watches.]

Karen: “How could you have known that we needed you… when even I didn’t know it… until a few moments ago?”

Matt: “I’ll… explain all that later, Karen! Right now, let me study your father’s picture! (And I do mean study… not see! But she’s too upset to notice that I’m using my fingertips to learn her father’s appearance!)”

Daredevil vol. 1 #56 by Roy Thomas, Gene Colan, and Artie Simek

    Matt reading newsprint is fine; there’s a ton of precedent for it, it makes a certain degree of sense, and it’s been a part of his power-set for a long time. Matt reading newsprint with his gloves on without Foggy noticing anything weird is much harder for me to believe. And don’t get me started on his perceiving a framed photograph by touch with his gloves on. 

    Fortunately, more recent writers have moved away from these types of shortcuts, and are willing to acknowledge that Matt’s other senses can’t fully compensate for his lack of vision. The usual outcome is that Matt manages to improvise an excuse/alternative approach that allows him to maintain his secret, or he’s lucky enough to have someone else inadvertently help. 

[ID: A bystander shows Daredevil an image of a man (labeled as John Powers) on his tablet screen. Daredevil’s radar sense perceives the screen as a blank rectangle.]

Bystander: “Except this guy! He’s not one of us!”

Matt (caption): “What?”

Bystander: “I’m not on the list, but he is! See? Who is he? Do you recognize him?”

Matt (caption): “Ummm…”

Judge: “John Powers. Does anybody here know that name?”

Daredevil vol. 3 #31 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, and Javier Rodriguez

[ID: Daredevil is standing by as a man feeds a key card into an old-fashioned computer. The address “13 Wall St.” appears on a small screen.]

Matt: “Can you determine what building this key is for?”

IT guy: “Certainly! That data is coded into the key with magnetic particles which our computer can decipher– and there’s the address as you can plainly see!”

Matt: “Uh– yes. Are you sure there is such an address?”

IT guy: “Thirteen Wall St.? Of course!”

Matt: “Thanks! (I wonder what that technician would think if he knew Daredevil was blind and couldn’t ‘plainly see’ anything!?”)

Daredevil vol. 1 #144 by Jim Shooter, Lee Elias, and George Roussos

[ID: Matt (in civvies as his alter ego Jack Batlin) is “watching” a muted TV with his friend Stithy. The TV appears as a vague box shape in Matt’s radar. On the screen are the symbols of the U.S. government, the Fantastic Four, and the Avengers.]

Stithy: “Maybe I start makin’ ‘em for Uncle Sam though, huh? Plenty o’ need in the Big Apple now!”

Matt: “What do you mean?”

Stithy: “See for yourself…”

Matt: “I… uh… turn it up, will you?”

Stithy: “Picture there doesn’t say it all? Lazy S.O.B.!”

Daredevil vol. 1 #329 by D.G. Chichester, Scott McDaniel, and Joe Andreani

[ID: Daredevil is inside a building. On a table in front of him is a bomb, with several wires exposed. He is communicating with Steve Rogers (Captain America) via communication devices.]

Steve (off-panel): “We’re all right. I can talk you through defusing it. You’re looking for two wires. Green and yellow.”

Matt (caption): “Damn. He doesn’t know you’re blind.”

[ID: Daredevil dives out the window, comes back in with one of the guys who set the bomb, and slams him down on the table.]

Matt: “Turn it off.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #4 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

    And finally, my other personal favorite category, in which Matt deals with this problem by just… leaving:

[ID: Daredevil is standing on a city street, talking with two cops.]

Cop: “Nobody recalls anything… except running to escape… from something.”

Matt: “Then, Lieutenant, we’ve got a first class menace on our hands.”

Cops: “Can you give us a description, DD? Hair color? Eyes? Distinguishing marks? We’ll put out an A.P.B. on him right away.”

Matt: “I’m, uh, still a little shaken, I think… Let me get some rest, okay…? Collect my wits. I’ll be in touch.”

[ID: He runs and swings away.]

Daredevil vol. 1 #101 by Steve Gerber, Rich Buckler, and George Roussos

[ID: Daredevil is standing in the middle of a diner. Two bystanders are sitting at a table next to him, reading a newspaper article that reveals his secret identity.]

Bystander: “Hey, Daredevil… Hey, uh, Daredevil… what color’s my shirt?”

[ID: There’s a moment of awkward silence, then a loud boom from outside. Daredevil runs out of the diner.]

Bystander: “He didn’t answer…”

Daredevil vol. 2 #35 by Brian Michael Bendis, Alex Maleev, and Matt Hollingsworth

    While Matt has worked hard over the years to maintain his secret identity and hide his blindness as Daredevil (with… varying success), it’s definitely a relief to him when the people around him are in on the secret and he can be honest about his limitations. 

[ID: Daredevil and a cop are on a rooftop at night. The cop shows Daredevil a smartphone screen.]

Matt: “Someone want to describe to me what’s on that phone?”

Daredevil vol. 4 #8 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, and Matt Wilson

[cris-eng4u-journals]

Biographical and Historical Context: 3rd. Journal Entry - July 3, 2020

     What’s interesting about the Great Gatsby is the overlap between the novel its and the author. F. Scott Fitzgerald, the author, lived in the same time period as the novel and many of the narrative's settings are based on those, he experienced himself. You can find traces of him and his own life in various characters and events in the story. Fitzgerald paints a picture for us of what life was like during that time; a time of post-war economic growth (the roaring 20s), of prohibition, and shift in socioeconomic and cultural paradigms (the image of the Flapper in the Jazz Age or the dichotomy between the old rich vs. the new rich).

     One thing I’ve realized is the overlap between F. Scott Fitzgerald and two characters: Nick and Gatsby. It seems a lot of his own story became incarnated in these two characters.  

     Like Nick, he was born in Minnesota and moved to New York. Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda lived in Long Neck, NY which served as an inspiration for West Egg. His publisher Herbert Bayard Swope was known to throw wild parties like Gatsby. F. Scott and Zelda were also known for their wild shenanigans and heavy drinking. Zelda claimed that a lot of what F. Scott wrote was based on “voyeuristic” behavior toward his friends. Much of the tone seen in the novel, or particularly Nick’s narration seems to serve as an analysis of Fitzgerlad’s own peers, criticizing their lifestyles and morals.

     On the other hand, Gatsby seems in some ways to be a self-insert for Fitzgerald. Unlike Fitzgerald he doesn’t drink, this may be an idealized perception of Fitzgerald, possibly desiring that he didn’t drink as much as he did.  Similarly, to Gatsby, Fitzgerald strove to attain wealth and did so through capitalizing on his writing. Both his and Gatsby’s desire to become wealthy were rooted in trying to appease the desires of their lovers, both Daisy and Zelda dreamed of having rich partners. The shaky relationship dynamics of Gatsby/Daisy and Tom/Daisy also seem to allude to that of F. Scott and Zelda, whose marriage was very troubled. There is a passage in The Great Gatsby, which apparently came directly, verbatim, from an interaction between the author and his wife:

"It'll show you how I've gotten to feel about--things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. 'All right,' I said. 'I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool--that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.'"

     Fitzgerald does an excellent job at depicting life at the time. The era of Jazz, economic boom, and prohibition are all tied craftily into the social analysis seen in the story. The classicist views of the old rich, reflect many themes of colonial and aristocratic suspicion. For example, in many western European colonies the British, Spanish, Portuguese, French etc. would often view those born in the colonies, especially if they were lower-class as racially suspicious – due to their closer proximity with non-white individuals. In feudal and post-feudal Europe similar attitudes were held by aristocrats towards the gentry. These mentalities can be seen in the dichotomy of the old vs. new rich. The old rich often viewed the new rich as suspicious, because their paradigm of class lines was being shattered. They also viewed the new rich as suspicious because they assumed that their riches came from illicit means, like working in the booze business during prohibition. Although this might’ve been true for many, it ironically didn’t stop the new rich from also partaking in alcohol culture, hypocritically. The novel also deconstructs and disillusions the notion of the American Dream, which was so often believed and is to this day. Despite how rich the “new rich” became, they could never fully get the respect of the “old rich.” It’s possible that Fitzgerald felt this attitude from the members of the upper class he interacted with.

[stereksummerexchange]

Snugglewolf Sleep Therapy

@werewclfie | AO3 - I hope this is acceptable for what you were wanting! I’ll probably add some more to it on AO3 but I couldn’t get the ending to do what I wanted. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

by @d-athanasi

Stiles is having nightmares. Derek’s solution is not what Stiles expected.

Stiles wasn’t quite sure what caught Derek’s eye specifically. There were probably a couple signs that would have tipped him off: Stiles’s eyes were red and he had huge bags under them; he probably smelled like sugar and energy drinks from forcing himself to stay awake; or maybe it was him walking into the corner of the wall because he couldn’t keep his balance. It had most likely been all three. Or, who knows, maybe werewolves could smell nightmares. That’s definitely a thing that could happen, although Stiles would really prefer that it didn’t.

In any case, for whatever reason, Stiles found himself staring out his window at Derek’s face the night after Saturday’s pack meeting. Well, glaring out the window. Stiles knew that Derek could see him, which meant that Derek knew Stiles had seen him because Stiles had almost flailed himself off the bed when he’d noticed the werewolf’s hulking shape blocking out the street light. As it was, Stiles had barely managed to save his laptop from crashing to the floor from where he’d had it perched to watch Netflix.

So after a few minutes of Stiles’s glaring and Derek just staring placidly back at him through the glass, Stiles’s gave a huff and pulled himself out of bed to unlock and open his bedroom window.

“You rang? Well, knocked? Wait, you didn’t even knock so what…just, what do you want, Derek?” Stiles babbled at the man outside his window. He tried to keep his voice down, but given how tired he was, Stiles wasn’t sure he could even trust his own volume control.

Derek stayed silent.

Frustrated, Stiles shrugged his shoulders and twirled his hands as in indication to say something, anything.

Derek just raised his eyebrows and looked down at the floor then back up at Stiles face. Stiles sighed again and turned to go back to his bed, dropping to sit at the edge of it with even less grace than he could usually muster while Derek climbed almost silently into the room, and then closed the window behind himself.

Stiles rubbed his hands over his eyes and then through his hair. Maybe Derek had a project for him to research? At least that would give him a good reason to stay awake longer.

But when he looked back up, Derek was crouched right in front of him.

“Jeez, dude! What the hell?! Warn a guy or something! Make some noise when you move! You’re like a damn cat. A werewolf-cat. A cat-wolf? A werecat? Are there werecats? Is that a thing, because…”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted.

Stiles stopped talking and took a breath.

“…why aren’t you sleeping?” Derek continued.

Stiles felt his stomach drop, but he recovered quickly. “Well, currently there’s a werewolf who just crawled into my room Edward Cullen style that is interrogating me instead of letting me get my beauty rest, so…”

“You know what I mean.” Derek replied.

“Do I?” Stiles responded, “because you’re usually not so good with the words so I have to rely heavily on communication by eyebrow and right now they’re not really…”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” Derek interjected.

Stiles paused, looking away from Derek. This was why he hated werewolves. They were entirely too perceptive, even Scott. Well, maybe not Scott. Scott was still kinda oblivious sometimes. Which was actually kind of worrying since he had the werewolf hearing and the werewolf nose now, and…

“Stiles?”

Derek was interrupting Stiles’s internal babbling now. Great.

“I…uh,” Stiles stammered, “I don’t…really…wanna be asleep?” Dammit, why had it come out as a question?

“Why not?” Derek tilted his head inquisitively, his eyebrows now definitively broadcasting the emotion of “concerned.”

Stiles looked down at his fingers, which were attempting to tie themselves into a knot in his lap. With a frustrated sigh he pulled his hands apart and looked back up at Derek’s face.

“Why do you care?” Stiles demanded.

Derek’s eyebrows lowered further, as if angry, which only made Stiles feel worse. Of course Derek cared. He’d been the one to put himself between Chris’s gun and Stiles. Stiles had started to figure that the two of them were maybe even friends, a thought which made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

Guiltily, Stiles slid past Derek to stand in front of his dresser, keeping his back to the werewolf. Derek stood from his crouch and waited.

Stiles sighed again, and put his hands down on the top of his dresser, gripping the edge. “When…when I close me eyes, I…” he whispered.

Derek took a step forward behind him.

“When I close my eyes, I can see them,” he repeated, more strongly this time. “All of them. The people I…killed.”

“Stiles…” Derek started forward.

Stiles turned to look at him, stopping his movement. “And when I fall asleep, it gets worse. I have…nightmares. But they’re so much worse than nightmares because…” Stiles voice became clotted as his eyes began to stream. He gulped and took a breath to continue, “Because it actually happened. I was there, trapped, watching these people die because of me and I…” a sob wracks Stiles body as he turns to face Derek fully. “I couldn’t DO anything!”

Stiles angrily wiped at his eyes. He didn’t notice that Derek had moved again until the man was right in front of him.

“What…what’re you…” Stiles stutters, his heart pounding in his chest at the werewolf’s sudden proximity, but then he’s suddenly engulfed in Derek. The man’s arms were wrapped around him and he squeezed Stiles tightly like he was worth holding onto and Stiles was frozen in shock for a moment before he timidly moved his hands down to sit on Derek’s waist. Stiles waited for a few breaths, unsure what to do, but when no immediate physical threat occurred, Stiles allowed himself to relax into the hug and buried his head in Derek’s neck.

“Derek…” Stiles whispered, breathing in Derek’s scent, a mixture of clean skin and the sweet decay of the forest.

Derek placed his hand behind Stiles head and shushed him gently. Stiles melted into it for a minute, just letting himself be held. God, how many times had he thought about this? How many times had he imagined being wrapped up in Derek’s embrace? It was so wonderful to just let the older man hold him and enjoy being pressed against him. But with that thought, a surge of guilt hit Stiles and he struggled to pull back. He didn’t deserve Derek’s affection or care.

“No. No…Derek, I killed those people,” Stiles sobbed, “they’re dead because of me. Allison’s dead because of me! I hurt Scott! I hurt you! If I hadn’t been so selfish…”

Derek’s eyebrows descended in consternation. “Selfish? Stiles, you used yourself as a sacrifice to save your dad! To save this town!”

Stiles shook his head, “no, I did it for myself! I couldn’t bear to lose my dad because I didn’t want to be alone! I didn’t care about the town! Scott and Allison…”

“Scott and Allison put themselves in the same position for the same reason,” Derek interrupted, his voice calm and sure. “Either one of them could have been possessed.”

Stiles wanted to believe Derek, to trust what he was saying, but part of him just couldn’t shake the guilt. “No,” he responded, shaking his head. “Scott was a werewolf, so the fox couldn’t have kept hold of him for long, and Allison was too popular. People would have noticed her doing weird things.”

“Stiles, we should have noticed!” Derek moved his hands to brace Stiles’s shoulders. “We should have seen what was happening sooner. We’re all at fault for not helping you, but really, the only one who’s to blame for the nogitsune is the nogitsune. He used your body, yes, but he was the one doing evil things, not you.”

Derek stared hard into Stiles face, like he was willing the younger man to understand. Stiles stared back for a moment, seeing the hard intent in Derek’s eyes. Derek believed that. Derek believed that the nogitsune wasn’t his fault.

Stiles shook his head, pulling out of Derek’s arms completely to go sit back on the bed. He wiped the tears that had spilled down his face with his long sleeves and sniffled a few times, trying to clear his nose.

After a moment, Stiles felt the bed dip to his right, and a warm hand gently laid on his back. He sat for a moment, letting the contact comfort him, before speaking.

“How…how long did it take you to forgive yourself,” Stiles asked quietly.

The room stayed silent for a minute, so Stiles looked up at Derek. His face was set in confusion.

“I know,” Stiles continued, “…about Kate. About what she did, I know. I figured it out.”

Derek’s eyebrows drew down in consternation, his eyes searching Stiles face before losing focus for a minute.

“I mean, you don’t have to…” Stiles stuttered, sitting up to face toward Derek, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just…shit. Fuck, I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Derek interrupted, his voice adamant. He slid his hand up to Stiles’s shoulder to keep the young man from moving away. “Stiles, its fine. I figured you knew, it’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve talked about it with anyone.”

Stiles stared hard at Derek for a moment, trying to make sure he hadn’t overstepped or anything, but Derek’s face betrayed very little, so Stiles had to trust what the older man had said.

“Okay. Well, you don’t have to talk about it now, but…if you ever need anyone to talk to, I think…maybe I can relate or something.”

Derek snorted, the corner of his mouth coming up slightly. “I’ll remember that.” He squeezed Stiles’s shoulder again for good measure and then slid his hand down Stiles’s back to fold them in front of himself again. “So…how do we get you some sleep?”

Stiles snorted this time and ducked his head. “Dude, I don’t know. Maybe you can just knock me out or something.”

Derek grinned, “what, you want me to slam you into a door? For old times sake?”

“Hardly.” Stiles replied, his shaking his head. He ran his fingers through his hair again, feeling how shaggy it had gotten. He gave his scalp a couple frustrated scratches before letting out a huff. “I used to have nightmares after my mom died. They were awful. I…I couldn’t really sleep for months.”

“What did you do to deal with them?” Derek asked.

“I, uh,” Stiles glanced up at Derek, then back to the floor. “…I used to break into the k-9 cages at the station and cuddle up with the dogs there.” Stiles smiled at the memory. “I don’t know why, but just having those furry bodies around me really helped to calm me down. Plus, they didn’t get angry at me if I woke up anxious or flailed around. They’d just shift until they were sitting on me, weighing me down.”

Stiles looked back up at Derek, a rye smile on his face. “Maybe I was born to be in a wolf pack, huh?”

“Hmm” Derek replied, a grin on his face, before looking around the room. After a moment Derek stood, and started toeing off his shoes.

“What…what are you doing?” Stiles asked.

Derek didn’t respond, continuing to remove his shoes and socks before pulling his shirt over his head.

Stiles’s mouth went dry as he stared at the older man’s back, watching the muscles ripple as he folded his t-shirt and placed it on the corner of Stiles’s desk. God, was this some sort of hallucination? Stiles looked down at his hands and quickly began counting his fingers. There were ten of them, so he looked back up at Derek to find the man was facing him again. Derek had removed his belt and was unbuttoning his jeans.

“Dude! What?!” He gasped out.

Derek smirked up at him for a second before black fur started sprouting all over his body and his bones began popping shifting. Derek’s eyes blazed bright blue as he fell to all fours, his pants and underwear falling to the ground as his legs changed shape. After a moment, a huge black wolf stood in the place where Derek had been.

“Um…Derek?” Stiles prodded.

Derek’s eyes flashed blue again before returning to their usual hazel green. The wolf walked towards Stiles, who instinctually backed onto the bed.

“Uh, dude, what…” Stiles asked, continuing to move back until he was pressed against the wall at the head of the bed, the wolf following him up onto the mattress. Derek leaned forward until his nose pressed against Stiles’s cheek, his breath warm against Stiles’s skin.

The young man tensed, waiting for Derek to do something, but then his nose was gone. The wolf turned around a couple times before dropping himself down, he back pressed along Stiles’s side.

Hesitantly, Stiles lifted his hand to Derek’s back, brushing his fingers lightly into the fur there. “God, you’re so soft,” Stiles whispered, before realizing he’d spoken aloud. But the wolf didn’t respond. Steeling himself, Stiles puts his hands further into the wolf’s coat, scratching slightly against the skin beneath.

The wolf tensed for a moment, and Stiles froze, fearing that he’d overstepped again, but then Derek relaxed again, his legs stretching out slightly into a more comfortable position.

Stiles laughed, as his hands again began their scritching. “Oh my God, dude! You’re just a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

Derek huffed, twisting his head to look back at Stiles balefully. It just makes Stiles laugh harder, scratching Derek all over. He couldn’t help trying to find Derek’s sweet spot, but he never really found it.

Eventually, Stiles calmed down and found himself wrapped along Derek’s back, his face buried in Derek’s fur, which still smelled of Derek’s warm skin and forest sweet. His heart ratcheted up a notch as he realized that he was basically spooning Derek, even if he was in his wolf form.

“Um, dude, I, uh,…I hope I’m not like, making this weird…” Stiles said, starting to retract his hand, only for Derek to grab it in his jaws, lightning fast. His bite was gentle, but still strong enough to keep Stiles from retreating without actually hurting. With a tug, Derek pulled Stiles’s hand back around him, then licked the bite mark once as if apologizing.

Stiles just stared at the wolf, his heart still pounding in his chest. “O-kay,” he murmured, more to himself than to Derek, before letting his head fall back down. After a few deep breaths, Stiles squeezed the wolf. Derek answered with a deep chest rumble, more akin to a purr than to a growl.

Stiles huffed out a soft laugh, rubbing his face into Derek’s fur, finally feeling safe enough to let himself drift off.

“Thanks, snugglewolf…” he murmured before passing out.

Stiles woke up the next morning alone, but without having had a single nightmare. He’d almost have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t find a sticky note sitting on his laptop, the only message on it a paw print.

[cooperenjoys]

Top Ten Movies of 2016

This is my thirteen (going on 30) year of doing a list of my top ten (Eleven) movies of the year.  You should make a comment of some kind! And if you don’t see your favorite film, tell me. Enjoy Movies.

10. Love & Friendship: Whit Stillman + Jane Austin = A funny and wonderful film that any Jane Austin fan should see right away.  Love & Friendship is pure breezy wit from beginning to end, and with so many verbal punch lines that you won’t be able to catch every joke in one viewing.  Kate Beckinsale proves again that she is way more than the Underworld movies.  And Tom Bennett is an actor to keep an eye on since he steals every scene he is in.  Film Fact: Kate Beckinsale's first theatrical release in almost four years.

9. Don’t Breathe: Fede Alvarez + home invasion = A grind house thriller ride that never lets up. Fede Alvarez has done it again after his well done remake of Evil Dead.  Alvarez exploits the sensory impairment of his villain for one suspenseful set piece after another, demonstrating a strong command of his craft while investing the mayhem with some sly subtext, both economic and moral. Mostly, though, Don’t Breathe is an exercise in pure, sustained intensity that never lets up until the final frames. A must see for any one that loves thrillers. Film Fact: Stephen Lang wore contact lenses that greatly restricted his vision, particularly in low light. The other actors, in the scene taking place in the dark, wore lenses that made them look like they had dilated pupils but also greatly restricted their vision.

8. Arrival:  Denis Villeneuve (Sicario) + Aliens = One of best films of the off the year that appeals to the intellect just as strongly as it appeals to the heart. In a film that explores language and characters, it allows the viewer to experience the depth and wonders of what language means, what it’s for, and what it can do. Also, how we communicate alters our perceptions. I have been enjoying this trend of recent years of smart science fiction and I am really excited to see what Denis Villeneuve does with the new Blade Runner. (I wrote almost the same line last year for Sicario.)  Film Fact: Director Denis Villeneuve and screenwriter Eric Heisserer created a fully functioning, visual, alien language. Heisserer, Vermette and their teams managed to create a "logogram bible," which included over a hundred different completely operative logo-grams, seventy-one of which are actually featured in the movie.

7. Deadpool/ Captain America: Civil War: Ryan Reynolds + Rated R Superhero film = Gold. And Superheroes fighting each other + Actually a good Spiderman = Nerd dreams.  I am happy that Ryan Reynolds finally got to be the correct version of Deadpool and got to do the film correctly.  Deadpool was a hilarious, crass, and ironic film that did something certain audiences have been waiting for, something different and that is why its highest grossing R-rated movie of all time. I am hoping Logan follows this trend of something different.  Film Fact: 20th Century Fox refused to pay the writers of the film, Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, for onset input, Ryan Reynolds paid out of his own pocket for them to be onset to look over the film. While Captain America: Civil War had phenomenal action sequences and good character development, it also redeemed the not fantastic Avengers: Age of Ultron and cleansed the palette for the next Spider-Man movie. I can actually say that I am excited for the next Spider-Man movie thanks to this movie.  I can also say this was the essence of a classic Marvel comic come to life: the melodramatic angst, the team-ups and the in-fighting between characters. Everything my teenage self would have wanted.  Film Fact: The day before filming a fight scene with Robert Downey Jr., Sebastian Stan sent him a video of himself doing intense bicep curls in front of the decapitated head of an Iron Man suit. He attached the message, ‘Looking forward to our scene tomorrow Robert.’

6. Moonlight: Alex R. Hibbert + Ashton Sanders + Trevante Rhodes = Three amazing actors playing one character through many stages of his life. Moonlight is a stunning piece of filmmaking that is beautiful shot. Barry Jenkins used a shoestring budget to create a heart warming story of a boy growing, learning and finally accepting just who he is. There is so much I want to say about this film but I rather it is a surprise when you see it.  I can say that Mahershala Ali is amazing in it too and that he deserves an Oscar for this role.  Film Fact: When Juan teaches Little how to swim, Mahershala Ali is really teaching Alex R. Hibbert how to swim. When production started, Hibbert did not know how to swim.

5. Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping: The Lonely Island + Mockumentarie = Box office failer, but Soon to be Cult classic (I hope).  I have to say I enjoyed every second of this movie.  While this movie has its silly moments that I enjoyed, I do feel it digs deep into the absurdities of not just the music business, but the nature of the music documentary. Couple that with genuinely great songs like “Equal Rights”, “Finest Girl (Bin Laden Song)”, and “Incredible Thoughts” and I feel like it is absolutely worthy of standing alongside other faux music docs like A Mighty Wind or This Is Spinal Tap. This is a movie I will be watching over and over again and finding new things to laugh about every time.  And after writing this, all I want to do is stop writing and go watch it again.  Film Fact: A small clip from a Lonely Island video "Kablamo" is seen in the movie.

4. Midnight Special: Jeff Nichols + Michael Shannon = Another Fantastic movie on my top ten list.  Jeff Nichols is on a string of fantastic movies. He is the Director of the fantastic film Mud that was on my top ten list last year.  He also directed another film getting a lot of hype this year, Loving. In the middle of those two films he decided to make a somewhat-Spielbergian sci-fi/adventure that manages to be both grounded and awe-inspiring. And he did what he always has done and hired the wonderful Michael Shannon to be in the movie, this time giving him a bigger role. Jeff Nichols also surrounded Michael Shannon with other great actors: Kirsten Dunst, Joel Edgerton, Adam Driver, Sam Shepard and young Jaeden Lieberher. This all together makes Midnight Special a lively and riveting movie that trusting its audience in a way few movies of this scope dare to be anymore. Its gets my award for best sci-fi of the year and continues the trend of smart science fiction movies. Film Fact: Jeff Nichols wrote the film as a reflection on becoming a father.

3. Manchester by the Sea: Kenneth Lonergan + Casey Affleck + Michelle Williams = Cryfest.   I have to start out that you will cry in this movie...well, at least I did.  Don’t let that scare you away from the wonderful film because while this movie is a sad movie, it’s also hilarious and sweet and frustrating movie.  The movie is just about Life, how messy and strange and sometimes incomprehensible it can be.  Kenneth Lonergan vision of human experience and the unknowability of the human heart is shown through the fantastic actors in the film.  A cast that includes Casey Affleck, Michelle Williams, Kyle Chandler (This man can do know wrong), Gretchen Mol, Matthew Broderick and a brilliant discovery Lucas Hedges.  One scene with Michelle Williams and Casey Affleck has me crying just thinking about it.  Go See it. Film Fact: According to an interview with Kenneth Lonergan on DP/30, the idea for the film didn't originate with him - the main core of a character going back home to take care of a family member after a death was pitched to Lonergan by Matt Damon and John Krasinski as a script that Lonergan would write and for Damon to direct. But due to scheduling conflicts with The Martian, Damon couldn't direct the film or star in it (he suggested Casey Affleck to star in the film.) Lonergan was then given free rein as a writer-director for the project, with Damon and Krasinski as producer.

2. Hunt for the Wilderpeople: Taika Waititi + New Zealand = A fun and beautiful film.  In this year of hell and death, we are lucky that Taika Waititi was there to give us this cheerful film that would require a strong effort to actually dislike it. After directing the fantastic What We Do in the Shadows, Waititi turned his attention to a heart-warming pre-teen adventure that would have felt right at home in the 1980s alongside The Goonies and Stand By Me. Julian Dennison and Sam Neill play off each other so well, that every scene with them is a delight.  The film also has beautiful shots of New Zealand forests. If you haven’t seen it, you are in for a real treat.  Film Fact: The Toyota that main characters use is called Crumpy, in reference to Barry Crump, the author of the book the screenplay was based on. An identical vehicle was driven by Barry Crump in a long running series of Toyota commercials in New Zealand, where Barry played a bushman taking a city slicker named Scotty for a drive through the Bush. Scotty was played by Lloyd Scott, who appears in this film as "Tourist".

1. Hell or High Water: Taylor Sheridan + Western = Best film of the year.  First thing that drew me into this film was the dialog.  Taylor Sheridan has shown he is a brilliant screenwriter after doing this film and last year’s Sicario. (This movie keeps popping up on this list.)  Sheridan has written a witty screenplay here that captures a bank-robbing cowboy movie perfectly while having a scathing commentary on the financial health of the country.  The film is a perfect balance of entertaining and having something say about the state of things.  The second item that helped this film is the stunning performances from Jeff Bridges, Ben Foster, Chris Pine and Gil Birmingham.  I would say the best role Chris Pine has ever played.  Jeff Bridges does a perfect job of being likeable and racist. And Ben Foster can do no wrong.  Then there is David Mackenzie directing.  He does a perfect job of showing a small buddy film but also displaying the wide open space of Texas.  I loved every inch of this movie.  Film Fact: The phrase "come hell or high water" typically means "do whatever needs to be done, no matter the circumstances". It also refers to the "hell or high water clause" in a contract, usually a lease, which states that the payments must continue regardless of any difficulties the paying party may encounter. Both definitions apply to different parts of the plot in this movie.

Top Ten Honourably Mention (In Alphabetical order):

Doctor Strange

Don’t Think Twice

Green Room

La La Land

Maggie’s Plan

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

Sing Street

Swiss Army Man

The Invitation

The Witch

Best Animated Movie:

Zootopia

Runner Up: Kubo and the Two Strings and Moana

Best Documentary:  

O.J.: Made in America

Other Good Films of the Year:

Hail, Caesar!

Jungle Book

Nice Guys

Finding Dory

Mr. Right

Bad Moms

Sully

Eddie The Eagle

Captain Fantastic

Keanu

Everybody Wants Some!!!

The Lobster

Worst:

5. X-Men: Apocalypse

4. Star Trek Beyond (You can’t win them all Chris Pine)

3. Zoolander 2

2. Sausage Party

1. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

[apostateangela]

Well, isn’t that just Marvel-ous

I know I said at the end of my last post that there was more sex to come… and more of that particular story.

But I’m having to step back from it this week; just until I talk to my therapist.

Remember this part…?

I can’t tell you all the sex in my marriage happened because I wanted it.

I also can’t comfortably say it was forced upon me.

Let’s just say I don’t want to look at that part of my past yet.

Except, now I have to.

Something that has been happening since I began this endeavor is that as I articulate and create sentences on a page clarifying and identifying realities about my past it makes them more real and subsequently more startling and disturbing.

I wrote it.

And now I can’t help but look at it.

The truth seems to be that a large percentage of the sex in my marriage falls under the category of Forced Consent.

Which is, by definition, sexual assault.

And I don’t know what to do with that…

I promise I will circle back after I flesh some things out in therapy this coming week.

Instead I feel compelled to talk about something that isn’t on my chronological trajectory.

I’m being pulled off course by a very strong force.

Her name is Carol Susan Jane Danvers, also known as Captain Marvel.

Thursday night, when I went to the movie premiere of Captain Marvel, I had a very personal and emotional experience, and not the one I thought I would have.

I have been incredibly excited for this movie.

A badass female superhero who is also a soldier checks so many of my boxes.

I want to be a strong woman. I am looking for strong female role models in both life and fiction.

So this character has been someone I have started to become marginally obsessed with.

I even dressed up as her earth military persona for Halloween.

Sadly, the models of women that I HAVE had don’t always track with this kind of strength that I earnestly desire. So before I delve into my Captain Marvel deconstruction I’m going to add to the pictures of womanhood I have already shared.

Again, let’s start with the Church’s idea of what a woman should be:

I will remind you of a previous post discussing Eve and the concept of a ‘helpmeet’

(Is it good for (Wo)Man to be Alone?).

To add to those scriptures and that image, I’m going to draw your attention to various quotes said and written by men taken from within the structure of the Church, again from lds.org.

From the Church’s founder Joseph Smith:

“Let this Society (he is referencing the Relief Society, the LDS Church Women’s Organization) teach women how to behave towards their husbands, to treat them with mildness and affection. When a man is borne down with trouble, when he is perplexed with care and difficulty, if he can meet a smile instead of an argument or a murmur—if he can meet with mildness, it will calm down his soul and soothe his feelings; when the mind is going to despair, it needs a solace of affection and kindness” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, 228).

Various leaders since Joseph Smith, but all within the late twentieth and twenty first centuries:

“It is divinely ordained what a woman should do, but a man must seek out his work. The divine work of women involves companionship, homemaking, and motherhood” (“In His Steps,” 64).

“Beware of the subtle ways Satan employs to take you from the plan of God [2 Nephi 9:13] and true happiness. One of Satan’s most effective approaches is to demean the role of wife and mother in the home” (Elder Richard G. Scott).

“There are voices in our midst which would attempt to convince you that these home-centered truths are not applicable to our present-day conditions. If you listen and heed, you will be lured away from your principal obligations.

“Beguiling voices in the world cry out for ‘alternative life-styles’ for women. They maintain that some women are better suited for careers than for marriage and motherhood.

“These individuals spread their discontent by the propaganda that there are more exciting and self-fulfilling roles for women than homemaking. Some even have been bold to suggest that the Church move away from the ‘Mormon woman stereotype’ of homemaking and rearing children. They also say it is wise to limit your family so you can have more time for personal goals and self-fulfillment” (“The Honored Place of Woman”).

Translation: Women have a very clear subservient role: that of mild smiling wife, homemaker, and mother.

It is Divinely appropriated, meaning that God has said this is what a woman should be.

If you deviate from this role it is suggested that you are following Satan.

My mother is this woman: a simple, faithful, subservient woman with incredible homemaking skills. I learned from her.

But it goes deeper than that; my grandmothers, aunts, great grandmothers, friends, and fellow sisters in the church all followed in the footsteps of Eve, holding themselves accountable to God and their husbands, fully dependant and creating beautiful homes while rearing well-behaved, righteous children.

I suppose I should take this opportunity to say that I do not regret my choice of motherhood.

I value my abilities to garden, sew, crochet, embroidery, preserve food, cook, and keep a clean house.

These are all good things. So is this picture of womanhood inherently problematic?

No. The problem lies in the message that THIS WOMAN is all you CAN or SHOULD be.

That someone else, a man or group of men specifically, knows what is best for you and only through him/them can you become the best woman you can become.

This was my culture.

Add to that my marriage to the unstable, narcissistic sociopath I’ve mentioned before, and you have a clear picture of the limitations and restrictions and sorrow that surrounded much of my life.

(Captain Marvel is on her way, wait for it)

One of the key tools a narcissist uses within their relationships is gaslighting.

From Psychology Today:

Gaslighting is a form of persistent manipulation and brainwashing that causes the victim to doubt her or himself, and ultimately lose her or his own sense of perception, identity, and self-worth. The term is derived from the 1944 film Gaslight, in which a husband tries to convince his wife that she’s insane by causing her to question herself and her reality.

There will be a seperate gaslighting post, but sufficeth to say that as “the gaslighter creates a negative narrative about the gaslightee (“There’s something wrong and inadequate about you”)” both my husband and the church as an organization created this narrative for and about me.

Back to Captain Marvel=Spoiler alert!

Captain Marvel is a story of a woman who finds herself with significant gaps in her memory, to the point that she doesn’t really know who she is. She is given significant training and instruction on who she should be and how she should act with a suitable noble cause attached. This indoctrination extends beyond military training as she has a device in her neck that limits her use of power and allows her to be directly brainwashed by an AI all powerful entity (something God-like) called The Supreme Intelligence. It is discovered as the movie progresses that her past has been taken away from her as well as her identity. She has been shattered like her dogtags, reduced to Vers, a small piece of who she was or could become. Her incredible power is muted and the gaslighting spins the lie that it is only through the Divine will of the all powerful Supreme Intelligence that supposedly gave it to her (with an alien blood transfusion) that she has any power whatsoever. This lie extends even further in that she must be taught to control this gifted power through the instruction of a male benefactor, Yon-Rogg. He says more than once that it is his job to help Vers become all that she can be through his instruction and the controlling of her emotions and there-by her power.

Are you seeing the parallels yet? (a prescriptive identity with a noble cause, power that is God’s and not yours, a culture outlining your worth and purpose, lies used to make you feel powerless, emotions being pitched as something bad and wrong).

Writing that summary paragraph makes me want to vomit. My stomach is literally clenching.

And this was true during the movie as well.

I spent much of the movie horrified for Carol Danvers and simultaneously myself.

Good Job Marvel and Disney, you always create this fucking hero’s journey where the protagonist had to struggle through incredible challenges and odds until they eventually prevail.

But truthfully, we see ourselves in this fiction because it is archetypal and resonates deep within us.

And like a true hero, Captain Marvel does discover who she is, unspins the lies, unleashes her own power and its potential, and kicks everyone’s ass that needs to be kicked.

The problem is, we can’t all be Captain Marvel… can we?

A wise man who went to the movie with me, whom I love and who knows my tragic story, said to me afterward as we were talking about my obvious emotional response to the movie and the existence of parallels, “See, your blog and Muay Thai are your superpowers.”

(yes, I’m in martial arts training. I’m sure I’ll write about that at some time in the future)

This should have made me feel good.

But it did not.

Compared to the atomic, otherworldly, titan-like power of Captain Marvel,

these small things felt like nothing.

I’m sorry, or I’m not sorry… I apologize too much….rather, I’m filled with sorrow that this is my take away.

But it is important for me to be honest here.

My experience watching this incredible movie was that of emotional horror.

I was sad for what had been done to Carol Danvers because I understood the scope of that.

I understand the feelings of confusion at having your identity stripped away and not knowing who you really are.

I understand how it feels to only have flashes of yourself somewhere in your heart and brain, but not being able to nail them down or see them clearly. And to have people around you tell you to ignore those things and then outline for you what you are supposed to be.

I understand what it feels like to be gaslighted by a culture, an organization, a God, and a man who was supposed to care for you, to the point that you completely buy the lie.

Even if the lie is about you.

I understand how it feels to be told you have no power. And if you ever did exhibit evidence of having any power, being told that it isn’t really yours, but something given to you by God and thereby only good for doing the things that God told you to.

I understand being told that my desires and emotions were wrong and that I needed to stamp them down and “control” them.

Watching this movie for the first time made me also understand that my story was not as far along as Carol’s.

I didn’t feel powerful.

I didn’t feel strong.

The good news is, I went and saw the movie again the next night.

So here is my addendum:

There are three lines that impacted me the most from both my viewings… (forgive me if they are not exactly accurate). As I heard these three lines again, the negative feelings I experienced after the first showing shifted.

First: At one point in the movie, after much of the lies are revealed and Carol discovers that even the war she’s been fighting is based on an ugly lie, her old friend Maria Rambeau says this to her,

“You are Carol Danvers. You are smart, funny, and a huge pain in the ass.”

Rambeau then expresses how Carol had supported her as a mother and a pilot as well as standing up for those who needed her--as a hero should.

This moment reminds me that when I can’t believe in myself

or doubt my strength, power, and validity because of my Mormon programming

and the gaslighting of my culture and my ex-husband,

there are those around me that believe me and know who I am.

I need to turn to them for their support and clarification.

When my kind, smart companion told me of my superpowers,

I needed to believe him

and take comfort that even if I don’t know, others do.

And they will help me with my truth based on evidence and experience instead of abstract rules and limiting parameters.

And he is right. This blog is my unfettered voice and Muay Thai is helping me create both mental and physical strength. Both allow me to fight for myself.

Second: One of the most powerful moments in the Captain Marvel movie is when Carol is being held by the AI and it tells her, “Without us, you’re only human.”

A montage of all the moments in Carol Danvers original life where she got knocked down in some way, but then got up flashes across the screen.

There is a clear moment of revelation for Captain Marvel.

And Carol Susan Jane Danvers replies, “You are right. I’m only human.”

After which, she breaks free of the not so powerful AI holding her.

This line is where it’s all at for me.

Because the images of Carol through different ages of her life, taking risks, and doing what she wants in spite of the people who tell her she can’t,

then falling, failing.

AND THEN, getting back up and trying again and again until she succeeds creates the message that... it is THIS behaviour that makes us remarkable HUMANS.

I am humbled to be able to tell you that THIS is also WHO I AM.

If I do anything of note, it is that I do not give up. I keep trying and I get up after I fall.

It is in this way that I am heroic.

It is in this way that I have risen from the rubble of my damaging paradigms.

It is in this way that I seek to find the new ways in which I will live my life.

I will continue to keep trying to find myself, and my truth.

I will not fall back into that which was created for me, but instead create a place and identity for myself.

Finally, there is the line that is sure to go down in the history of this movie as its most quotable line. Captain Marvel says,

“I’ve been fighting with one hand behind my back, but what happens when I am finally set free?”

This is both a rhetorical and a warning question.

Because as Carol Danvers removes the control device in her neck and both channels and releases all her power, she defeats those who have held her captive and steps into that place where she can and does realize her true potential.

Sure, she has some moments when she fumbles around a bit and has to feel things out, discovering what she can do as she experiments and fights her way free.

But eventually she FLYS, glowing in all her glory.

And the final message she leaves us with, is in her handling of Yon-Rogg when she, without hesitation shoots him and says, “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

I agree Carol, I do not have to prove anything to those who held me captive in foolish dogma and lies.

But, I am not flying… yet.

I HAVE broken free of everything that was tying my figurative hands.

And while my wrists are still chafed and I am trying to rid myself of the psychological muscle memory, I believe I will only continue to heal and discover my power and its potential.

I must.

Because I will not stand for the alternative.

-Angela

[realpaperclipsmagazine-blog]

Top 10 Books to Read Before You Die

If you have only six hours left before you die, can you say you have fully lived that life yours? You must be looking for a really good book suggestion or just contemplating on life – maybe looking for something to read to make you brood even more. Whatever your reasons are, I am here to share about books to brood over life. Kidding. These books were a great source of inspiration instead of depression. Personally, reading novels is like living another life from the perspective of the characters. Why live a single life if I can experience hundreds more, right? So, if you want to feel a rush to flip through pages, heartaches, adrenaline, and inspiration plus visit different lives all over the world, I invite you to read these beautiful literary masterpieces that I treasure so much. 10. Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom What a way to start the list with a book about a dying man.

Tuesdays with Morrie This beautiful novel is about an 83-year old man named Eddie working at Ruby Pier, an amusement park. He was living his normal routinely life as a maintenance personnel when an equipment called Freddy’s Free Fall malfunctioned resulting in his death. He was trying to save a little girl from getting crushed and got in the accident instead. After his death, he found himself in heaven where he gets to revisit his whole life, from his happiest to his most regretted decisions. This book will give a "feels" trip about friends, family, love, regret, and forgiveness. 9. Animal Farm by George Orwell This is one of those stories that the more you research, the more you understand the meaning and depth of the literature. The story started with a meeting called by the prize pig, Major, after having a strange dream. Major sensed that his death was near. In that meeting, he shared his wisdom that no animal is truly free and that their life and meaning revolved around slavery. Major urges everyone to rebel against the owner of the Manor Farm, Mr. Jones and have a life of abundance that they deserve. Three days later, Major died but the wisdom, the spirit of Animalism, lived on through the animals as they start planning for their secret rebellion. Initially, the rebellion was a success. For a while, the animals had their utopia and renamed the Manor Farm to Animal Farm. However, Mr. Jones refused to give up and gathered other humans to take the farm back. More problems arise when one of the supervisors, Napoleon, was filled with greed and made himself to be the sole leader. This novel is an allegory to describe the early years of the Soviet Union. Animal Farm contains George Orwell’s thoughts about the Russian revolution of 1917, totalitarianism and socialism. To further understand the novel, analysis and summary are available online. An essay called “Why I Write” also explains what prompted the author to write this novel. 8. Fireflies in December by Jennifer Erin Valent Racism is still a sensitive issue nowadays despite the progress we’ve made through the years. This book will remind you how extreme it was in the 1930s from the perspective of a 13-year-old girl, Jessilyn Lassiter. Initially, I thought this was just about her experiences as a tomboy slowly turning into a woman. However, that summer when she thought she killed a man and was deserted by everyone for living together with her colored best friend Gemma, I realized that the story is more than just that. 7. Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Time Traveler's Wife This is definitely one very unique story of falling in love and getting married. Henry is a time traveler that cannot control his traveling ‘disorder’. Clare, his beautiful wife, met the 36-year-old Henry when she was still six years old. She often helps him with food and clothes whenever he stumbles around her family's property naked because of his 'condition'. The two then formed a strong connection through the years of ‘visiting’ until it was Henry’s turn to meet his wife for the first time. They met in a library when Clare was a 20-year-old art student and Henry was a 28-year-old librarian. Clare tried to explain that she met him when she was still a little girl. Despite being surprised that Clare knew about his illness and of the circumstances, Henry still agreed to go to dinner with her as he finds himself extremely attracted to Clare. Their love story immediately starts up a storm after that first meeting. Happiness, struggles, heartbreaks, and loneliness followed as they try to make their marriage work. The uncertainty of Henry’s whereabouts and safety cause so much strain in their relationship. (Strain is quite an understatement.) I have conflicting emotions for this story of love and family. However, it made me appreciate that experiencing time in a chronological order is something to be grateful for. 6. Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho Well, it is exactly what the title reads. The story is about Veronika who lived a perfectly normal life. She had a good job, a nice-looking face, and great parents. But one day, she decided to die through an overdose of sleeping pills. As she waited for her death, she read an article that jokingly asked, “Where is Slovenia?” Having not much to do but wait for her death, she found it humorous to write a reply to the magazine and imagine the controversy that may arise as that will serve as her suicide note. Instead of discovering afterlife, she woke up in a mental hospital called Villete. She then learned that she was in a coma and will die after a few days because of an extremely damaged heart resulting from the overdose. Counting her days, she then experiences life more fully in the institution as she has no expectations to meet and can freely express herself. She felt the changes in her as she loses her indifference and started to feel fear of dying. The book discusses the concept of insanity and questions our perception of reality. The literature was created partially based on the author’s personal experiences in mental institutions. 5. The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel by Michael Scott The thing is, I’m a huge fan of the idea of Alchemy and Immortality.

The Alchemyst: The Secrets of The Immortal Nicholas Flamel The story started right off with a battle in a bookstore where Josh Newman smelled peppermint and rotten eggs. Yeah, talk about a weird day at work, right? Read on and the story gets interesting as Josh got caught up with his boss’, Mr. Nick Fleming's, magical battle with Mr. John Dee over an important book. His twin sister, Sophie, and Mr. Nick’s wife, Mrs. Perry run to the chaos and tried to help. However, Mr. Dee ended up taking that precious book and captured Mrs. Perry as well. Turns out, that stolen book was what kept Mr. Nick or Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, immortal. Nicholas Flamel was actually the greatest "alchemyst" there is and can use magic to make the elixir of life in the stolen book called Codex. The twins and Nicholas needed to get the Codex and Perenelle back before the end of the month or the couple will age and die. To make the matters worse, with the use of the Codex, Dee plans to summon the Dark Elders, the beings that ruled the planet before the era of the human beings, to destroy the world. If you are looking for an adventure and magic, you may fall in love with this series. 4. Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold I’ve read this book when I was exactly the age of the main character, Susie. So, imagine how my skin crawled as a fourteen-year-old girl reading very descriptively how she was raped and murdered. This story was narrated by Susie herself as she was wandering in her imperfect heaven. She watched over her family and observed how her case was slowly being investigated by a detective named Len Fenerman. I could still remember the disgust, fear, anger, and despair that I felt especially when her parents slowly discovered their daughter’s death through an elbow. Yes, a piece of elbow found by a dog and lots of blood that was identified to be their daughter’s. 3. Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl A Psychiatrist’s job is to take care of their patients’ mental health and sanity but what if the psychiatrist himself was subjected to torture? This is a true story written by Viktor E. Frankl about his personal experiences being a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp. Mr. Frankl had the ability to flee Austria and pursue his child brain logotheraphy in Vienna during the Second World War. However, he chose to stay and do whatever he could to protect his parents. A remarkable line that I’ve read from this book was: “He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how”. This book was filled with heartbreaking experiences of injustice, suffering, and survival. He asked, “When you absolutely have nothing to lose except for your naked life, what could make you keep going?” If you struggle with depression or just someone that has always questioned life, maybe you could get some inspiration as he tries to answer that latter question in this book. 2. Every Day by David Levithan

Every Day This story is literally living hundreds of lives in a single lifetime gone out of control. A is a unique individual as he lives through life transferring from one body to another every day. This might sound cool but it’s a condition A cannot control and as far as “he” knew, “he” was the only one born with it. (A doesn’t have a gender as it depends on the body he was borrowing so let’s just call A a "he" in this paragraph.) “He” was fed up to change and for years, "he" just conformed to act however the person was borrowing acted. That is until “he” fell in love with Rhiannon. A tried to defy this unique hindrance and struggled to win Rhiannon’s affection. Along with the messed up circumstances and romance, I also enjoyed every life A had experienced. "His" insights as someone who never actually belonged to any skin color, gender, body type, religion or culture felt so refreshing. I'm quite excited to watch the movie adaptation of Every Day too! 1. Tuesdays with Morrie By Mitch Albom “Do I wither up and disappear or do I make the best of my time left?” That was the question presented early on in this novel worth reading. This is about Mitch and his favorite professor, Morrie. The old professor had a terminal illness called Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or also known as ALS. This is a type of illness that slowly gives the patient a slow yet certain death. It slowly melts your nerves and robs your ability to move. Despite the illness, the professor decided to spend his last days teaching. The subject was called the meaning of life and was taught through life experiences. Each class would take place once a week at the professor’s house. No exams were given although a paper that contained all that was learned is expected. This paper was presented in this book. For the professor’s last class, he had only one student and that was Mitch. BONUS: The Giver by Lois Lowry This book takes a systematic and control freak society to a whole new level. The novel is one of the shortest that I’ve read but it’s definitely one of those that left so much impact. Boy, I was staring at nothingness for a long time after I’ve read the book. It made me love and appreciate my ability to perceive colors more than anything while feeling so dead inside. Okay, I should tell a little bit about the story. It was told through the point of view of Jonas, an eleven-year-old that’s living in this futuristic dystopian community that has no pain, suffering, hate or strong emotions. Everyone is so kind and polite. Every citizen has a place and job that’s rightly decided by the council of elders for them. It is basically because the society has chosen ‘sameness’ to save everyone from making wrong decisions. Everything is the same from the age on when you are allowed get a bicycle to the method on how to apply for a ‘family unit’ and being ‘assigned’ with a child. Heck, to have a spouse, you need to apply for it and after thorough studying and consideration of personalities, intelligence, and compatibility, you might be assigned to one. Children are born out of birthmothers who themselves cannot ever see. Babies will then be cared for by the nurturers and will be assigned a name from a previously selected list - that is, if they are found to be ‘unfaulty’. They then are assigned to a family which has applied to get one. When the citizens grow old, they will be sent to the House of The Old and be ‘released’ after living their time. Not only the old can be ‘released’ from this community – faulty new children, two-time violators of the law; a citizen may even apply for one and be granted right away. This novel is just simply disturbing. Collecting my emotions after finishing the book was as hard as writing my thesis. I am clearly exaggerating but this book definitely left me broken. I presented a great selection, right? If not, then it’s okay. Different people have different tastes and thought processes. Plus, I cannot say as well that I’ve read every book there is. There are so many books out there in different languages. Heck, some great books might not be even published yet and just lying in some people’s computer right now. How I wish I can live my life reading even half of the available literature. Nonetheless, those listed are my favorites. Even though I read to experience another life with different circumstances, I could say that through reading them, it made me think about my own. I realize my privileges of living in this country during this progressive century. Reading started as an enjoyment and escape from reality but when properly reflected upon, it surely guided me to make better realizations on how to deal with life and other people. Everybody has a story we may never know about. Each has conflicting opinions and judgment. However, at the end of the day, we are all just humans trying to get through life. If you enjoyed my list, please comment down below and let’s discuss our favorites. However, if you disagree, please suggest to me your top ten books so that I can read and have a little chat about them with you guys. Also, if you have noticed, there were 11 books instead of ten. Consider it as a random bonus you got on a random day. You're welcome. Want more book related articles? Suggest them down below and we'll try to make it for you. Read the full article