#truly the gay epitome of i hate how i was raised so i will do everything i can to raise a child with the love i never experienced help

[lesbeidou]

arlecchino really does love all of her children….

[drarryangels]

It’s pouring rain. Absolutely down pouring. There’s one bannister, you know like canopy overhand thing in front of this cafe. Harry runs under seeking shelter, then Draco. In my mind they don’t know each other, but they feel something special with the other. But as soon as the rain stops they’ll have no more excuse to be there with each other

Harry runs under the canopy, holding his jacket over his head, and keeping his head turned down from the rain. Harry nods to a man standing under the canopy, and the man nods back in mutual suffering.

Harry hates the rain. Always has. He can’t remember a day in his life, even when he was young and he had people to protect him from the storms. His mum used to hold him close to her chest and dance him around the kitchen, humming, when the storms came and thunder racketed through the house. Harry doesn’t need protecting from storms anymore. He still misses his mum and dad.

The man standing next to him taps away viciously on the screen of his phone. Harry stares out at the people running past with umbrellas and coats over their heads, and tries not to feel awkward standing silently next to this man who is clearly sheltering from the rain as well.

“Hullo,” Harry says finally. He grins widely at the man as a friendly gesture.

The man looks up sharply and checks to see if Harry is speaking to him. “Hello?”

“Sheltering from the rain?” Harry gestures vaguely out at the pounding sleets of rain.

The man tilts his head to the side a little. “Yes. I didn’t want to ruin my new shoes.”

Harry glances down at the man’s feet to see the shined toes of leather shoes. Harry doesn’t know what brand they are, though he feels that the man expects him to. Harry tries to nod in understanding.

The man smiles, seeing straight through Harry’s vacant expression. He waves his hand in indifference. “Thank the holy mother that this bodega was here,” he says.

“Bodega?”

“Yes,” the man says, lifting his nose into the air. “This wonderful canopy you’re standing under?”

Ah, Harry thinks, so he’s a posh git. Harry doesn’t mind posh gits. He went to boarding school with them for years, getting pushed around for being an orphan with gay godparents. Harry never minded it much. He had good friends, and a wonderful family. And besides, not all posh gits are particularly horrible. He might as well give this one a chance.

Harry shrugs, keeping his smile on. “Never knew it was called a bodega.”

The man smirks. “Most people don’t.”

Harry thinks this posh git might be one of the good ones.

He holds his hand out. “Harry Potter.”

The man looks him up and down, realization dawning on his face. “Draco Malfoy,” he says, and shakes Harry’s hand. “You’re the Potter boy.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.

Draco Malfoy’s pale face goes bright red. “My apologies, I don’t know why I-”

“It’s alright,” Harry says. He looks back out into the rain. “I am the Potter kid, I suppose. My parents died in the war.”

Draco Malfoy shakes his head, eyes wide. “Your parents were war heroes.”

Harry looks down at his sneakers. “I suppose so.”

“Sorry,” Draco Malfoy says. “It’s only, I’ve looked up to them my whole life.” There’s a silence where only the rain and hassled sounds of people running by can be heard between the two of them. “I joined the military because of the sacrifices your parents made, actually.”

Harry’s head snaps to the side to face Draco. “What?”

Draco Malfoy smirks again, but smaller this time. “Yes. I grew up in a rather conservative household, but my aunt mostly raised me. My parents were too busy being business people to raise a son. My aunt knew your parents, I believe. She spoke of them often, and highly.” Draco Malfoy shrugs. (Harry didn’t think posh gits were the type to shrug). “It’s what inspired me to fight in the war against race supremacy.”

Harry gives Draco Malfoy a long look. He’s wearing all black, tailored trousers, a nicely fitting blazer, his hair swooped back neatly away from his face looking untouched by the rain. As far as Harry can see, he is the epitome of what a posh git should look like. And he has the speech mannerisms of one too, but the words he’s saying don’t quite match up with the posh boys Harry went to school with, who spouted exactly what Draco says he’s against: race supremacy, bloodlines, purity.

Objectively, Draco Malfoy is rather handsome.

“Who is your aunt?” Harry asks.

“Andromeda Tonks. Maiden name Black.”

It clicks in Harry’s mind. “Ah. Your aunt is my godfather’s cousin.”

Draco snaps his fingers. “Right! Your godfather is Sirius Black. He’s married to Remus Lupin, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Harry nods.

Draco turns to look out from under the bodega, where the rain is no longer pounding into the pavement, but coming down in steady sheets. “I can’t believe I never made that connection,” Draco says wonderingly. “I mean, I’m sure I knew about it, but I never really thought about it.”

“Yes, well, Sirius ran away from home at sixteen, and was promptly disowned, so that could be why the name didn’t pop up immediately,” Harry says. He knows about Sirius’ family, and their positions on race supremacy. Sirius has told him plentiful stories about it, and what it was like for him to grow up in as a child.

Draco shakes his head thoughtfully. “No, I’ve heard about him. Andromeda isn’t into all of that supremacy bullshit." Harry startles at the swear, but Draco doesn't notice. "But after she married Ted, she sort of cut herself off from the family. I don’t think she talks to any of the Blacks anymore, even the good ones.”

Harry laughs a little. “Sirius does the same. Avoids interacting with them at all costs.”

“I don’t blame him.” Draco snorts. “I would do the same.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, quieter. “Funny coincidence, running into each other here.”

Draco rocks back and forth on his heels. “Truly.”

Quiet again. The streets are mostly empty by now, passerby standing under other bodegas or in the doorways of shops while they wait for the rain to pass. No one else joins Harry and Draco under the bodega they’re standing under.

The rain begins to drizzle.

“So-” Harry says, at the same time that Draco begins with, “Would you-”

They laugh awkwardly, and gesture to each other.

“You start,” Harry says.

Draco turns red again, and Harry marvels at how easy it is to see the color on his skin. Draco says, “No, no. You first.”

Harry runs his fingers back though his hair and smiles sheepishly. “I actually don’t have much to say. I was just trying to think of a reason to stay here and keep talking to you.”

Draco ducks his chin into his collar. “Oh. I was going to ask you to lunch.”

“Really?”

“Only if you want.”

Harry nods. “Yes. I really do want.”

Draco smiles, and Harry smiles back. They go to lunch.

[zaritarazi]

002 with mixen <3

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when i started shipping it: okay so i went deep into my archives and i found my first mixen gifset, here, from october 26, 2016. it is then followed by this gifset from october 28, 2016, a complete stroke of genius i’d forgotten about. and HERE is the first post i made about them while watching legends, also from october 28th, 2016. i’m assuming that the clip of her trying to kill him was released as a preview which is why the gifset predates the text post. so then in november 2016 is good it’s not really ramped up yet and then we get the chicago way and that, in a lot of ways, changed my life? for the better? unclear. am i being sarcastic? also unclear. there’s just so much about it that did me in. first the “i’m clyde that’s bonnie” because s3 of dusk had JUST ended and that was a RAW fucking nerve. just the exact shit i was looking for. the scene where mick puts his finger to his lips while looking at amaya’s mouth and you just know he’s internally like i am... going to hell. i am GOING to hell. amaya kissing him on the CHEEK? [mick’s certainty of going to hell intensifies] and the real piece de resistance was len descending from the ceiling shrieking in gay rage like. that’s what really solidified mick’s relationship with amaya to me: he was willing to defend her to literally, literally his husband. he says amaya is his ONLY friend because leonard is GONE, implying that amaya is len’s EQUAL in mick’s eyes. mick is a complex character and he’s actually very sensitive but when we had him in season 1, he came as a packaged set with len. and he grew and formed new relationships and listen we all know i can and will ship mick with anyone dominic purcell this is a threat but amaya is, in canon, not just implied by dominic’s choices for the character, the time where mick is declaring his affection for someone out loud. and i also want to reflect on like. leonard, be he real or be he a figment of mick’s mind, despite being WILDLY jealous of amaya, had one goal in that episode: to keep mick alive. like mick was so reckless in season two and with amaya he seems to finally almost want to... pull back? he tells leonard “i’ll be dead like you” which says he isn’t objecting to the idea of being dead, but that amaya is giving him something that makes life exciting, and he’d rather have that than fall into his old self-preservation instincts. you can MARK that mick starts trying to die less after the chicago way until len comes back in the world war i episode.  like i guess i started shipping mixen when they became the epitome of “god said love your enemy so i obeyed her and i loved myself” are you HAPPY? is this what you WANTED? 

-

my thoughts: you accidentally had a baby with him. i am the reason he is able to feel love. we are not the same

-

what makes me happy about them: as much as i’ve focused on amaya’s positive impact on mick i want to emphasize that this is a two way street because mick is someone who taught amaya to embrace herself and what makes her happy. amaya has so much pressure riding on her shoulders and mick is never deterred by it. amaya has always been brilliant beautiful incredible etc but when we first meet her in s2 she is so tightly wound and she is so in the mold of what she thinks she needs to be and what she thinks the legacy of the anansi totem requires of her and when she’s around mick she realizes she can be... amaya. just amaya. like did she say to mick “what would a criminal do” because she was being horny on main? yes. but she also did it because she was genuinely open to learning how he saw the world. like it’s truly incredible that amaya meets mick and in the span of 30 minutes is like actually, mick is the most interesting and enticing person i have ever met and  [mick’s certainty of going to hell intensifies] but actually there are just little things they do even when they don’t like each other that show a certain level of respect- mick tells amaya he’s not an idiot and amaya tells him not to call her “girlie” so amaya actually spends the rest of their relationship uplifting mick’s ideas and his accomplishments and mick POINTEDLY never gives amaya a nickname. the nickname one is especially funny bc i geniunely think she just didn’t like “girlie” and may have been fine with a different nickname but like. the fact that mick remembers to NOT give her a nickname EVER when everyone else gets one? the way he paid attention to amaya and respected what she was saying? the way they could be open with each other? like okay they weren’t canon-canon but a part of me is glad bc. this ship was originally marc’s idea and what is legends s2 if not phil and marc fighting for control of the story like the one ring? if marc had been allowed to make them romantic i fear he would’ve done his normal bullshit that he does with his couples where basically mick never changes in a positive way and keeps chipping away at parts of amaya until she feels like she is at “his level” and then he essentially takes over the rest of the parts of her life he hadn’t already taken control of and just, disgusting. like let me be clear on mick rory’s worst day he is still a better person than oliver queen on his best day i don’t care if he’s roasting people alive he is STILL a better person. but with that relationship choice being taken out of marc’s hands, we instead get a relationship where amaya offers mick the starting blocks to build himself UP, and he takes them and is able to keep building himself even without fully relying on her. when he tells her in season 3 “we’ve all done things we’re not proud of” and she just brightens so immediately, and the same thing happens in the pirate episode - and he is able to do these things for her because he let her help him, but did not make her his only lifeline. the person mick is in s3 onward is a person he feels better about being because amaya has always seen good in him and like. not to be dramatic but i am literally, literally crumbling into ash as we speak

-

what makes me sad about them: FROM SEASON 4 ONWARD SHE ISN’T THERE ANYMORE AND MICK IS JUST LEFT WITH ALL THE FUCKING EMOTIONS SHE MADE HIM FEEL AND THE WAYS SHE HELPED HIM AND ALL HE CAN DO IS TRY TO KEEP HER ALIVE, IN HIS MIND AT LEAST, BY HELPING PEOPLE (CHARLIE AND MONA) THE WAY AMAYA HELPED HIM. 

-

things done in fanfic that annoys me: i have no issue with mixen being in fic with OTHER ships but to my fucking detriment it always seems to be a secondary pairing in captain canary fics and like 1. hate crime 2. mick is a bisexual he can have a husband and a wife he can have them at the same time he can have them at separate times but if you’re writing capcan i’m assuming you have a heterosexual agenda and i want that kept away from ships i like at ALL times

-

things I look for in fanfic: a genuine understanding of mick’s character. he can be kind of tricky to strike a balance with but you can just tell when he’s being written too aggressively or when he’s being written just as too much of a bastard or a former criminal and like, i also look for amaya not being helpless and emotional bc quite frankly mick is way more expressive emotionally than amaya and it is so vital that this is understood. also if it’s sad i like to read it and then cry myself to sleep

-

who i’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: OKAY FINE nate for either. nate for both! final ot3 of nate/amaya/mick is good, pure, canon supported, and legally required. but also amaya with zari 1.0 and mick with ray or, honestly? zari 2.0. DON’T @ ME

-

My happily ever after for them: they just get to like. live life together. mick takes in ese as one of his own and amaya does the same for lita and they have a 3rd child together that’s in the bible look it up but like. not giving up the time traveling life and the heroics and the adventures fully but being a family even when their kids grow up and they can be old together even if it’s them popping on and off the waverider sometimes together sometimes they do their own thing always put the kids first and sure mick has 22 wonderful years on amaya but he’s on a timeship he can wait for her to catch up so they can get old-old together. also nate is there romantically, sexually, raising the children, let’s have mick and nate make a fourth child, this is absolutely non-negotiable

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who is the big spoon/little spoon: amaya is AGGRESSIVELY the little spoon. like flinging herself into mick’s arms and like HOLD ME and mick just reflexively wrapping his arms around her bc she small. sof. smells nice. pretty

-

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: amaya like why be having not-sex when you could be having sex? and mick like i don’t know. sleeping? photography? long drives? (it’s long drives & going to museums don’t @ me)

[mentalcurls]

6.4 Basta

I actually half heartedly tried to make a proper post about 6.4 Basta, but I have too many different things to say so listicle it is, keeping with the tradition of my SkamIT meta posts.

in the very first shot, when Ele lags behind as her and Edo walk, she looks so much smaller than him. And like, she’s shorter, that’s a fact, but the shot exacerbates that and I wonder: is it her feeling particularly small? Or does Edoardo feel like the Big Bad Guy/Wolf (aka the epitome of menacing characters) to her?

then Edo starts talking and tells Eleonora how she feels and puts words in her mouth. Does he correctly guess the things Ele is thinking of saying? Yes, he probably gets very close. Does it give him the right of him to speak for her? No. He is trying to make them communicate and that’s good, that’s healthy in a relationship, but then it’s not a two way communication, it’s him telling her how she feels and what she’s gonna say.

Let’s talk about the conversation he imagines between them: he says Ele is gonna tell him to stop punching people; his answer is “Okay, but I told you to stay inside.” and guess what? That’s not a fricking answer to the problem Ele would be pointing out. She’s opposed to the frequent resort to violence on Edo’s part: if she had stayed inside, she wouldn’t have seen the violence, but it still would have happened. Besides, why should she have stayed inside? Who is he to tell her where to go and what to do? She was safe anyways, all girls were since they stayed well out of the fight and just watched. So, what he really means is: “Okay, you seeing me punch people was your own fault because I told you to stay away, so that I could (potentially) lie to you and downplay my part in the fight and how violent it was.”

Then Edoardo continues imagining their conversation: Eleonora would object “Okay, but you have to stop [punching people].” which is a fair assessment of how she’d react to his previous non-answer; then he says ⟪and I’ll tell you: “Okay, I’ll stop.” Peace. The end. We kiss and that’s it.⟫ and here lies the biggest problem imho: the way it sound to me is that he’d agree with her just to stop fighting so they can go back to making out, he wouldn’t do it because he understood what Ele’s problem with what he did is, he’d just agree in order to make up, he wouldn’t even stop to reflect on what he’d done so at the next occasion he’d act just the same and expect Ele to forgive him again too because he’d have a precedent. Again, no two way communication in his imagination, Ele’d be talking but he wouldn’t be listening.

and even outside of the conversation Edoardo imagines, it’s not like he listens. He hears what she says, but he’s got his answers ready, he’s already thought out which objections Ele will bring and he’s prepared to answer

and, I mean, Ele isn’t listening either, she definitely thinks she’s in the right and she’s not open to seeing Edo’s point of view, but to be honest instead of explaining his reasoning he’s just listing excuses and putting words in her mouth

the Edoardo says that thing with the guys from piazza Giuochi were basically over and that no fight would have happened if Marti and Gio hadn’t “decided” to fight. So many problems in such few words. First off, things were not over with the Piazza Giouchi guys, they might have been nearly over in his opinion/from his POV, but look at the chronology:

Edoardo headbutted one of the Piazza Giuochi guys because he hit on Emma but she refused him so the guy called her a whore so Edo intervened

the Piazza Giuochi guys beat up Canegallo and Martucci while Edo was with Ele

two Piazza Giuochi guys got kicked out of the raffle party for starting shit & being homophobic to Marti

the Piazza Giuochi guys caught Gio and Marti alone, hit them, Edo & co went after them

so what I see is a sequence of revenges: the Villa guys win, the Piazza Giuochi guys win, the Villa Guys win, Piazza Giuochi guys try to even out the score. Did Edo honestly thinking that in a general climate of animosity the other guys would just accept being thrown out of a party, because of someone they view as inferior too, and not try to get retribution? Jajaja, que fun, as my queen Lydia Riera would say. Then of course he does the horrible thing of trying to place the blame of an homophobic attack on the victims, so he’s basically digging his own grave here. He backtracks immediately when Ele points out he’s victim-blaming and tries to talk about the experience, very close to her, of a gay person suffering what’s basically a hate crime.

and here’s another thing that bugs me immensely: he doesn’t let Ele speak. He interrupts her when she’s about to go on a rant about homophobia and victim-blaming, then he tells her she doesn’t listen, then when she asks him to listen to her he starts trying to interrupt her and one-up her raising progressively his voice till he’s screaming so loud he imposes himself and shuts her up. Probably because he seems scary and intimidates her into silence, especially when you think that just a couple of days prior she saw him destroy a wooden chair on a person’s back.

he actually yells, so loud it echoes, “Listen to me for a second!” when, honestly, he’s done nothing but talk up until now.

and finally we get to the crux of the matter: Edo doesn’t want to get a lecture from Eleonora. A lecture he knows is coming, one he has imagined and against which he’s probably prepared arguments, even, so much so that even if it came at this point he wouldn’t listen to a word because he’d be too wrapped up in his own retorts. But the retorts are not even necessary cause he’s so mad because of what he expects her to say he doesn’t even let her speak, just yells over her, to avoid that infamous lecture.

So really, he’s asking Ele to see things from his perspective, when he doesn’t want to do the same. A balanced discussion and relationship? We don’t know them.

btw, I personally feel like Eleonora in this instance would be more of the “cold shoulder” inclination, not of the yelling and lecturing inclination, but that’s me; I mean, she avoided his calls for almost two days, she didn’t even want to look at him today, so… (btw, at the beginning Edo tells Ele to stop avoiding looking at him, so he wants her attention on himself, but it has to be the exact kind of attention he wants, which is why he gives her a script of what he wants her to say in a fight and gets mad when she doesn’t adhere to it)

and like, Ele sees things only in black and white, very few shades of gray, lines firmly drawn and not to be surpassed, which means she’s not willing to compromise and that’s not good for communication, the negotiation of conflicts and ultimately relationships. But Edo is also very, very firmly attached to his own cynical vision of things and his Black and Grey Morality, where he gets away with ruthless actions because he’s on the good-but-imperfect side while the other side is much worse (the homophobic assholes of Piazza Giuochi, who are obviously Evil), there is no truly good side and evil is Inherent in the System, so e.g. the police is not a real solution or any help.

so then Edoardo resorts to the Jerk Justification of Appeal to Inherent Nature: that’s just him. Which Eleonora correctly read as an attempt to use the Freudian Excuse of his Dark and Troubled Past, but a Freudian Excuse Is No Excuse so she gives him a "The Reason You Suck" Speech that closely mimics the speech she gave him in ep. 7 season 1 “Ho fatto un casino” (all capitalised and italicized words refer to tropes as categorized by TV Tropes)

the last jab about playing the victim is hella mean, but he shouted her into shutting up so I think we’re mostly even, personally

how condescending is that “You know, no-one is forcing you to be with me”? And it’s an ultimatum at the same time. Edo. Giving Ele a ultimatum. When he’s the one who has shown signs of violent behaviour.

the last look Ele gives Edo feels pretty pointed in my opinion, she’s telling him she’s not stupid and not to condescend her and yes, she’s perfectly aware she can not be with him, would he like if she actually decided not to be?, but the she breaks, opens her mouth to say something… and Edoardo stalks away, having already decided what she’s chosen to do without letting her speak

the poetic cinema of that last shot with Edo in black going one way and Ele with her bright white bag going the opposite way… kudos, Ludo

I’d also like to add that I’m struggling a bit this season. Too few clips, too few social media updates, it feels like I’m missing a huge part of the story (without even going in about Marti facing homophobia again and again and no way for us to see the consequences) and I can never understand Ele’s state of mind. I’m not into this season as much as I hoped I’d be.

[starkatana]

Through and Through

This song was basically written from Dabi's point of view.

Birthday - Quietdrive

"Fffuuuccck." Dabi downed his drink. "Hey yo, bartender, can I get another one of these?" Dabi pointed to his drink.

"You aren't going to go y/n's birthday?"

Dabi starred at the shadow through drooped eyes. "Dude, just get me the drink."

"Of course, sir."

Dabi starred at the leftover drops of whiskey at the bottom of the cup. It was just a few hours ago. He accidentally told you that he loves you. Then it got weird. He didn't mean those words but you kept pressing him on why he said it then.

He threw back his drink, desperate for the droplets left over. I didn't mean it.

Kurogiri switched Dabi's empty glass with a full one. He raised his glass at the bartender and took a swig.

Then he got a text from you: "Wanna talk about this?"

He ignored it.

Today was your birthday and he knew that. He had played the day off like it wasn't your birthday and that he didn't care. When he had actually planned to take you on a motorcycle ride to a secluded place to do some stargazing.

He was just at your place. You guys were just hanging out. It was a normal day. Nothing was different. You guys were having sex and afterwards. That's when he said it. He tried to play it off but you kept pressing it.

"I didn't mean it! I don't know where that came from!"

"Suuurree." You gave a sly smile, "Whatever Dabi you love me."

He didn't want to fight you. He didn't love you. He didn't have to prove anything. You were just someone he used for his benefit to care for his wounds. He didn't care about you. That's when he left.

There was another buzz: "C'mon, I'm sorry about earlier. I was just teasing."

He left you on read again. And threw back the rest of the new drink. "Aye Kurogiri, just keep them coming."

The night persisted on and Dabi kept drinking he didn't give a shit about you. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. Yet he couldn't help but think about you and check up on you by going through your social media.

Your social media had you with your girls. You had a birthday crown on and sash saying ‘birthday girl.’ You looked just how you acted, the epitome of sass. Your friends were all around you. Then there was a picture of you and a boy he was down on one knee proposing to you with what looked like a ring pop.

"What the fuck!" Dabi gripped his drink and flames appeared around him.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't use your quirk in my bar."

"Shut up, Kurogiri." Dabi downed another drink.

"Another? Sir."

"I don't want to know who she is."

"I don't want to know you, but here we are."

A week has passed and Dabi found himself injured and in need of some healing. Instead of going back to the league of villains, he found his way back to your apartment. He climbed the fire escape and the window was still unlocked.

“Y/n?” he called in.

“Dabi?”

He walked into the living room and looked at her.

“Oh god.” There was blood running down his face. “Come here. I’ll fix it.”

His eyes were fixated on her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Every time he was around her, she cast a spell on him. He was tired, but with her around he was relaxed. He sat next to her on the couch and without another word, she used her quirk to heal the wound and to take away his pain.

Once his cut was healed and before you could move your hand away, Dabi grabbed your hand and held it close to his face. He kissed the inside of your palm and looked up at you with his striking turquoise eyes.

Taking your hand back, he turns around to lean against you. You stop him and press your hands to his back, “You know my birthday was a couple of days ago, right?” she asked massaging his back.

“Oh yeah?” Of course, I knew.

“Yeah last Friday, I texted you...”

Act nonchalant. “Oh yeah?” He scoffed, “I was shitfaced sorry.” Way to go. That was dickish.

She didn’t respond, but he kept feeling her hands against his back. His aches were going away and he felt the tension melt away.

“Did you...have fun?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Y/n,” he stopped her and turned around to look at her. Say it, say you’re sorry.

“Dabi, I, uhm, brought someone home that night.”

Dabi got up from his spot. Fury fueled his body, rage in his eyes. All he could think about was your bed. The bed you shared together. Dabi grabbed his coat and headed for the door before he’d do something he’d regret. He bet it was the guy who proposed.

“What you're leaving again? You're not gonna ask? Are you even curious?"”

“You slept with another man y/n what do you want me to say?!”

“I don’t know maybe that you care? That you’re sorry for skipping my birthday? That you're only using me! That you hate me! Anything Dabi, I want to hear anything.”

He stopped and stared at her.

“you told me you loved me and you didn’t mean it. I just want to know do I matter to you at all? Even in the slightest bit? Not even as your healer but as a friend, confidant, anything. I want to know.”

“Tch. It doesn’t matter.”

“Dabi,” she got up after him, “I didn't sleep with anyone. My friend stayed with me and she brought someone home. I slept on the couch. All I could think about was you and how I wanted to see you.”

“Y/n, I don't care what you do.”

Go back, you idiot! You're a fool! Turn around you piece of shit. Dabi shook his head. He wasn't going to turn around. Being with you clouded his judgment. He wanted you to be safe, but couldn’t imagine you being safe with him. Maybe this was for the best.

“Y’know, she finds someone, suited for her, they get married and she lives a normal life. I’ll be nothing but just a guy.” 

“You’re an idiot, kid,” Kurogiri responds. “She cares about you villain or not. She cares and here you are throwing it away like she’s wrong for believing the things you said.”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“When are you going to stop lying to yourself? You can have her and live your life the way you want it to uphold Stain’s values. All you have to do is get away from my bar and apologize to her before she’s gone.”

Dabi hated that Kurogiri was right but more that he was wrong for not handling his situation with you more maturely. Instead of dealing with it, he just kept walking away. Not anymore. He bought a bouquet of flowers and got on his motorcycle and headed for your apartment.

He checked the time you’d just be getting home from work. He parked his bike in front and waited for you to arrive.

“Y/n,” he said as soon as he saw you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“I’m here for the truth.”

“Okay….”

“And to apologize.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry, y/n. I love you and I didn’t know if I was truly capable of loving you. You deserve someone so much better than me, you deserve a better life than this, and I didn’t think I could give that to you. I thought the words slipped, but I truly meant them, I was just scared of them.”

“You know,” you said getting close to him, “you can be a real ass, but I forgive you. Let’s just be better from this, okay?” You hold his face in your hand.

Dabi smiles and grabs you by your hips, pulls you into him, and gives you a rough passionate kiss. “But wait a minute,” he takes out his phone and finds the picture of you getting proposed to. “Who’s this guy?”

You look at the phone and laugh, “That's my work husband. For breaks, we hide in closets together to avoid people. We bitch about life together and we’re just on the same wavelengths.” You could see Dabi squirm, trying to keep his cool but at the same time wanting to scare the guy into staying away from his girl. “Oh, and he's gay. He has a boyfriend they are a very cute couple.”

Dabi gave you a smile as he put his phone away. You put yourself close to this body, leaning your hands against his chest; he rests his hands on your ass. “I think I like jealously on you.” You purr, “It looks good.”

[cuckiller-blog]

About the Killer...

Hello there person on the internet. I don't know you, but if you're reading this you will know me, or at least what I'm about. The name and description of this account pretty much says it all; pretty much...

I just want to clarify that I am fully aware that the terms "snowflake", "SJW" and "cuck" have been made popular due to extreme right Republican, mostly Trump supporters over the last few years; however, they don't own those terms nor are the first to use them. I am not a Trump supporter and never will be. As a matter of fact, Donald Trump is one of the biggest snowflakes I have ever witnessed. Getting butthurt over every little criticism, insulting people he once claimed he liked/respected because they say they don't agree with everything he does (pre and post presidential election mind you), etc... the man is a crybaby.

Just so we're clear here... A snowflake cuck is simply anyone, republican or democrat, liberal or conservative, who gets offended by every little thing or every little person under the reality sun who doesn't agree with their fragile sensibilities.

This goes for the following which I will be covering over time:

- Using certain terms/phrases which can be negative (grasp your chest and gasp now) to express emotions, but don't reflect that person's actual beliefs about human issues. I.E. If I say something is gay or call someone a faggot that doesn't mean I am against homosexual people, or their rights or that I'm protesting gay marriage in front of court houses. Sorry the word "straight" isn't used to describe dumb shit, but that doesn't mean everyone saying shit is gay means they hate gay people...

- Stating facts about people and their appearance..... Sorry fat people... If you're fat, you're fat. Sorry simple facts of life bother you so much. I know a few skinny people also hate being called skinny due to body issues, but it's far and few between fat people and the same still applies.... If you're fat, you're fat, if you're skinny, you're skinny, if you're whatever in between, you're whatever in between, doesn't always mean people are out to get you and doesn't mean they hate you or think you're ugly just cause you're FACTUALLY fat...

- Jokes/Stand-Up Comedy/Overly PC Fascist crowds... You are cancer, you are killing comedy because you don't know how to take a joke and not take everything seriously.... Do you not realize most of what comedians say they don't even truly believe IRL? Even if they do..... Who cares? As long as it's funny? Sorry, anything can be a joke, including rape. Doesn't mean they condone rape... If you can't understand that, move the fuck along snowflake. The PC culture has gone to the extremes in general as well, people can't say anything without being made to feel like pieces of shit because they say something someone may not like as a part of freedom of expression. I'm not even talking about people going around saying blatantly evil shit, those people are dicks, but I mean the most innocent of shit. Like if someone says "I have a friend who's an Indian, he lives on a reservation a few towns over." and people act like you just condemned that whole group to hell because you didn't call your FRIEND a "Native American!!!!" instead.... Lol..... Ugghhhhh.... Get a grip people......

- Millennials.... The epitome of the snowflake plaque..... Sure, not all millennials are snowflakes, but a good majority of them are. Much more than past generations..... They call it progressive behavior when really they are being fascists trying to control free speech and expression; especially at stand-up comedy acts..... Just gay as fuck.... Lol

- Asexuals/Sexual Shamers.... So now a days if you comment on someone's appearance as being "hot" or "sexy" these little pieces of shit wanna downvote and criticize said posts because they don't understand the simple fact that men have penises and women have vaginas and sometimes they see people in certain revealing clothing/poses that induce a sexually attracted response as a condition of being a normal human rather than some sexually repressed cuck.

- Feminazis...... Lol...... Just lol..... Not every person who has a penis and makes a seemingly funny or observational comment about the opposite sex is trying to strip away all of your rights or how strong or equal you can be. The difference between genuine feminists and feminazis is night and day....

Oversensitive/overprotective animal rights cucks..... Sorry bitch boy, it's not animal abuse, it's innocent fun so STFU about "Don't ever do that to that beautiful animal ever again! You don't deserve to have pets!" when it's clear the animal is not in danger and it's just good fun. You're a dumb shit and you know nothing about how well they care for their pets or their bond and simply judge them because some guy sneaked up behind his dog, yelled and made him jump or some shit? Gimme a break ya little bitch...

- Did you assume my/that person's gender!!!!? No shit stick, I don't assume when facts are concerned, I just go by said facts. Chances are if you look like a dude, you're a dude. If you look like a chick, you're a chick. If it quacks like a duck............. It probably calls you a cuck. Look, nobody cares if you identify as a woman, if you've got a 5 o'clock shadow, adam's apple and a penis taped to your thigh behind some dress, wig, and makeup, you're still a fuckin dude..... I'm not gonna call you a woman cause you identify as one "inside". I'm also not going to say a white guy is black because he identifies as a black man. I won't call you a cat because you're a human who identifies as a feline ya nutty bitch. Funny how that works eh? Gender is not fluid and it's not a choice. Nor is race or friggin' species. Lol....

You can turn yourself from male to female aesthetically and call yourself a woman, sure, and I'll most likely call you a woman if you actually look like a woman, but you're still factually not a woman. You don't have milk producing breasts or possess a real vagina or womb..... You can never get pregnant..... Never have a period...... Not a real woman..... Deal with it. "But Cuck Killer, some women can't get pregnant!" blah blah blah.... Yeah, we are all aware of this. It's also not the norm, and obviously even for women who can't get pregnant and whatnot......... Their vagina is still real/natural from birth soooo..... Yeeeeaaahhhhhh...... They are real women still...... Because..... ya know..... their vagina's weren't fashioned from half a mutilated penis..... This also applies to the cancerous "he/him" or "her/she" bullshit on some people's social media profiles. You don't need to proclaim your gender like that, nobody cares. This wasn't something people ever put in profiles to "clarify MY gender" up until a couple years ago. I go out of my way to call them the opposite gender of what they shove in your face to refer to them as just to see them blow their shit. Lol

It's also clear that when someone addresses a group of people and says "Hey, guys!" even when women are present, it's just a common greeting and "guys" in this context just means people.... Not literally calling the women males.... So relax and stop throwing a bitch fit when people say that. It's not always about gender specifics for crying out loud.

- LGBTQXYZSDL blah blah blah whatever it's initial count is up to at this very second of this minute of this hour. Look, I'm not against gay people, nor do I dislike them generally speaking. I am for gay marriage and all that jazz, so this isn't so much about the gay community but more so the people (not all of them are even gay, but they are snowflakes) who raise a big shit when you say "LGBT" but leave the Q off, or worse yet just say "gay/transgendered community" instead of the initials. They act like you just killed a baby right in front of them, calm down faggot, it's not that big of a deal. (Again, snowflakes, me saying faggot there doesn't mean I hate gay people, read above and note that I have no hate for homosexuals and faggot in this case simply means "dumb shit" lol).... How long will it be before they add a new initial to it and people shit their pants if you don't say "LGBTQBSHSKSBDGSN" in one breath without pausing to catch your breath in between? I cringe to see the day. LMAO

And more than likely more ridiculous shit as time goes on. Sure this list will be updated over time as dumb shit keeps happening.... But that is the gist of what this account will be about. Basically people getting offended and raising a stink over every little thing.

If you're still reading you either agree with me or you're a glutton for logical punishment. Either way, get those seat belts on!

[oysterbarfugitive]

thoughts on religion and death

(prt 1 of reply to ask)

So, I know that talking about death in itself is pretty dark, and even darker to admit that I think about it a lot, but with that said I have obviously thought about it in many different ways. In one circumstance I would like to believe that there is a heaven, that this life isn’t all for nothing. I would like to think that there is an everlasting paradise that is better than anything we knew on earth, that death is just the end to one chapter that guides us onto the next. But if there is a heaven, or afterlife of sorts, there has to be a God, and I’m very conflicted in my thoughts about that. I definitely feel that there is something out there, so i cant say that I’m an atheist, but I cant say that I believe and follow everything the catholic church says either. 

I could think about this for hours and never come up with a perfect conclusion or have a fine line in what i believe. There are always so many possibilities and so many things we don’t know know that i don’t know if I’ll ever find my clear belief. But with that said I also have the very morbid realistic thoughts, on how there could really be nothing. In the greater scheme of things we are literally irrelevant, we are just a spec inside of thousands of more specs. We are BARELY there, so why would there be anything for us? Maybe we are here by luck or by possible error?

After brushing off the thousands of thoughts that consume us of WHY we are here, we think about what comes after. In our lifetime we question whether this book called the bible was really written from the true prophecy of God, or just made up by someone to comfort people by giving them a sense of hope. In a time THOUSANDS of years ago where they truly needed it. When they DESPERATELY needed this false reassurance, for something better than what they were living on earth. They needed comfort from these horrible and miserable lives they were living, and religion gave them that comfort, just in the same way greek mythology existed. It told them that everything had a reason, that everything happened for a reason, and that one day they wouldn’t suffer anymore (which would mean a heaven). So if thats all it really is....then what? what if someone a really long time ago DID really just make it all up? Then we spend our lives judging what someone else believes or how they live their life? What others do or say, what they wear, how they look or even who they love? But what if that’s it, no heaven or everlasting life, wasting your decades of life by being too invested in other people’s “sins”.

Since religion ties into death very intensely (for obvious reasons), you can't really have this type conversation without each other. In all honesty, I constantly feel torn with religion. I get split with what I said earlier (abt doubting how legit the bible & religion is) and believing in bible and questioning if it was real, or wondering if my disconnect is just because of the way that its taught that ruins & taints the image of what its supposed to be. I believe i guess, but I'm not die-hard catholic either because I don't believe half the stupid shit they preach about. 

Death is really a morbid and cold topic. Death actually REALLY scares me and even the death of loved ones. I think about it a lot, but i still feel just as scared by it. Maybe I'm messed up for it, but I'd either want a quick death or to just go in my sleep. I guess I’ve already drifted into religion, so do what you will with that. Now back into religion I guess.

I think that despite other people’s “sin”, there was still a “good” in them. I believe that everyone, at one point in their lives, no matter how crazy they seem, no matter the motive, was good. No matter what they have done, at one point I believe there was good in them. All the murders sitting in jail, rapists, drug addicts, innocent kids, messed up teens; were good at some point. I believe that everyone deserves and is capable of that goodness, but some have been too screwed up to remember what it was like, to not remember what it meant and who were not raised with the same goodness or love they deserved. And then there were the ones who got lucky and were able to hold onto that goodness. When I say that I’m not saying to not punish all the rapists, murderers, pedos etc. because they DEFINITELY deserve their time, but I don’t believe they were always that way. There is so much hatred and judgement against one another in our society, while we all should just be able to coexist without all the the fucking hatred for each other and I feel like in some cases religion causes a lot of it.

With all of the above being said, the catholic church really bothers me. They constantly preach about how we should love our neighbours, while they sit in the most judgement. How can they constantly sit there and judge other people by their outward appearance, their mistakes, opinions that clash with theirs, or a way of life they just don’t agree with? For an example, the lgbt (for the sake of this example, a gay person). If you ask or talk to your typical ignorant and narrow-minded Catholic, the most common response or comment you’ll get is that “it’s wrong, disgusting, and a horrible sin, they are all going to hell” or they will get very angry and continue to insult them. Now how the hell are you going to sit there and tell me to love everybody, but then pick and choose who you deem worthy of that love? How can you justify it by saying “its wrong because it says so in the bible” when that same bible told you to love everyone with no exceptions? In that same bible it says to sit without judgement as God is the only one who can judge us, while the catholic church is the epitome of judgement. Not to even mention that most parts of the bible you claim "proves that homosexuality is a sin" is actually referring to pedophilia and rape. (which are things that are just EVER so slightly ignored and brushed under the rug, ESPECIALLY by catholics.) You want to condemn people but don't even listen to your own bible when its says that's EXACTLY what you shouldn't do. There is nothing fucking righteous about praising hatred and condemning love.

You say such as a fact while most of the stories and tellings of the bible are proven to be stories of faith and faith only, not fact. How can you tell me that God is good and knows what he is doing when he creates a person the way they are when you are telling these poor people that God didn’t do it, that it was their CHOICE to be gay? How can you judge when you have never been in that position? Do you honestly think for one minute that if they could have CHOSEN to be gay that they would’ve? So that they could constantly mocked and judged all their lives? Not to mention that it has been SCIENTIFICALLY proven that it’s not a choice but a hormonal imbalance in the brain? In this new era, time, generation or whatever you want to call it, we live in this new world people aren’t afraid to be who they are anymore, not a new world with the wrong ideals or values (although, there are obviously plenty of those). People are starting to understand that it’s okay to be different, people aren't afraid to be who they are anymore. Things have changed drastically from the biblical times, so don’t try to use it as an excuse to judge situations you know nothing about. I believe in loving and seeing the goodness in people, not in finding ways to manipulate, hurt people and make people hate themselves instead of love and acceptance.

In conclusion, keep your judgements to yourself, keep your opinions to yourself if it disregards someone else’s existence and just shut up if you have nothing good to say. I'm tired of it.

[jouissezduprintemps]

Please, I need to know more about your thesis. That sounds super interesting and also disturbing and I know about it a little bit but it would be very cool to see in depth research on that topic.

My thesis focused on three filmic adaptations of the 425C [Beauty and the Beast] fairytale type. Specifically: Jean Cocteau’s La Belle et la bete, Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, and Dreamwork’s Shrek. Cocteau’s film is anti-heteronormativity, Disney’s promotes it, and Shrek is a postmodern inversion of the tale 425C.

The best way for me to explain is to quote directly from my thesis. It’s incredibly long, so I did by best to strip it down to bare-bones quotes.

NOTE: The thesis makes heavy use of the word q*eer, in case that’s an issue for anyone who might read. Obviously, it isn’t used as a slur, but I know that a lot of people don’t like the word. I use it here in reclamation, but I don’t want to upset a reader.

To quote a few key points in my introduction:“This essay focuses on how each of these three films conveys the sexual ideology of the filmmaker to the spectator in the theatre, specifically in terms of heteronormativity and queer sexuality.”

“An examination of these three films as they pertain to queer sexuality and rights is essential in a society torn between acceptance and hate of individuals within the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) community.”

“By looking at these films through the lens of LGBTQ theory, the viewer can see how the perpetuation of or rebellion against the societal, sexual status quo denotes the validity of certain characters as human. Others are judged by this status quo for their presentations of gender, while still these characters are held accountable for their own queer or heterosexual realizations of their true selves. The game of performance and sexuality is dangerous for those who exist outside the dominant ideologies of their worlds and have no desire to conform.“

Cocteau’s La Belle et la bete (1946, France)“The Beast’s desire to possess this feminine symbol, whether it be Beauty or the rose, is not due to a heterosexual coupling instinct. Rather, it is a necessary part of his identity as a beast to possess both femininity and masculinity within himself.”

“Because the Beast was raised as a man, he realizes that the act of animalistic, savage hunting [*literal in this sense*] is not one which is societally attributed tomen. He knows that he is acting outside of this binary construct and that, if he is caught after the act, the evidence of his inhumanity and queerness will be undeniable. However, the need to hunt is a natural and necessary part of his identity as a monster, and it is unavoidable while he existsin this state. Yet he cannot claim this natural action as his own; his upbringing taught him that he needs to be a man, and a man does not hunt in this way. As such, there exists a dysphoria between who (or what) the Beast is and who he believes he should be. The clash between his twoidentities is not unlike that of a queergendered person battling with societal expectations of heteronormative presentation.”

“Beauty views the Beast as a monster in the same way that everyone else in her world does; the Beast does not entirely conform to the societal definition of humanness because he does not easily fall within the gender binary, and, as such, is something that should be feared from afar and attacked as a threat if it comes too close, lest they risk the endangerment of their own status as human.”

“Beauty recognizes no obvious change within herself; she is not whisked upwards in a whirl of magic which clearly and exaggeratedly transforms her sexuality. Neither does she use her attraction to the Beast as any sort of platform or derive her personal status from it. Her attraction simply is. The normalcy with which Beauty’s transformation takes place and is accepted within the Beast’s queer realm show that this separate world is one in which those who do not fit into the heterosexual gender binary may live as their true selves.”

“It is when Beauty, considered by Avenant [*suitor*] to be his property, is “corrupted” by the Beast that it becomes necessary, as seen through the eyes of the patriarchal country society, for Avenant, their ideal of heteronormative masculinity, to stage his attack on behalf of his ideal woman.”

“In Cocteau’s surprising cinematic twist at the end of the film, the magical transformation of the Beast into a human prince bestows upon him a physical likeness identical to that of the recently-dead Avenant. The same actor plays both parts, and Beauty is visibly shocked and disturbed by the appearance of the heteronormative man who stands in front of her. It is clear that she has fallen in love with the image of the Beast rather than the prospect of the prince; eventhough the two are the same man internally, she possesses no physical attraction to his transformed, human and heteronormative state. The Beast has become the embodiment of heteronormative masculinity, the very trait that caused Beauty to reject Avenant.”

“Cocteau’s La Belle et la bête glamorizes heteronormative love in such a grandiose way that even cis-gendered 5 , heterosexual viewers question the ceremony upon which traditional romantic relationships are founded. By makinglight of heteronormative ideology and stereotypes, Cocteau underscores the disadvantage of LGBTQ individuals in society as a whole. The pedestal upon which Beauty and the prince stand at the end of the film is one of a heteronormative ideal; the woman tamed the wild man, who hasbecome the perfect gentleman and has tamed her in return. The blatant parodying of the patriarchal coupling rites seen at the end of this film causes the viewer, heteronormative or queer, to look at this pomp and circumstance with a skeptical eye. The audience, as such, is forced to puzzle over what they have seen as Beauty and the prince depart for their utopia, just as confused by Beauty and the prince’ heterosexual coupling as one would be if the couple were of a queer sexuality.”

Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (1991) [NOTE: This was written before the live-action release, which I have not seen. What I assert here pertains to the animated feature.]“In short, he [*beast*] is incapable of being physically threatening, even is his moments of rage, due to his muted and, in some cases, domesticated features. The viewer is never allowed to forget that the Beast is truly the prince from the beginning of the film. It is through these traditionally attractive,masculine characteristics that Disney is capable of maintaining the Beast’s heteronormativity and position on the gender binary while he does not physically appear as a human male.”

“Through the in-depth measures taken by Disney to insure that their audience cannot mistake the Beast’s masculine status on the gender binary, the queer subtext of the beast-figure’s very nature is completely removed from the story. As a result, the Beast openly perpetuates the dominant, heteronormative ideology shared by both the characters in the film and the producers in the Disney Corporation.”

“The Disney Beast reacts in the same way as Cocteau’s, with a demonstration of hypermasculinity. The Beast is a man enraged, yet his fury does not surpassthat which is deemed acceptably masculine. He walks the fine line between (hyper)masculinity and beastliness, careful never to step over into the realm of monsters, the realm of queer existence.”

“If the ideal heterosexual male is to find a mate, he must search for the ideal heterosexual female to be his wife, in the literal, proprietary sense of ownership. Belle is portrayed from the beginning of the film as this ideal, heterosexual female. She performs her gender in a corresponding manner with her birth sex. To further elevate her to the status of ideal, the commoners in her village sing along with Belle during the very first song of the film, which bears her name. The common theme is incomprehension of Belle on the part of the townspeople, and it is this otherworldliness that places Belle upon a pedestal”

“Although Belle is hailed as a savior, it is clear that she will be forced into a heterosexual coupling with the Beast, regardless of her own desires. This patriarchal assumption of purpose for Belle completely skips over her own will, rendering her in a lower position of power than the servants. As the ideal woman, she must be demure, submissive, and a martyr. She is seen by thehousehold servants as a tool (which surprisingly maintains her human status) who will gladly be used to improve the lives of everyone around her and to maintain the patriarchal, heterosexual status quo within the utopia of the castle.”

“However, the Beast’s position of the male ideal needs a foil if he is to climb up the pedestal while still in his monstrous form. Gaston, Belle’s unsuccessful suitor, fills this role. He is the epitome of machismo: his muscles bulge out of his shirt, he breathes sexism, and he even has his very own song about how much of a man he is. This hypermasculine caricature serves to remind the audience that they are not to focus too heavily on the outward appearance of the Beast. Gaston, through his rivalry for Belle’s affections, serves as a reaffirmation of the Beast’s original position as a white, heterosexual male. Two men are offering their affections to the ideal woman; both men serve as an ideal in their own right within the drastic disparity of their social classes. However, it is Gaston’s hypermasculinity that, while maintaining his position as a heterosexual, calls into question his ability to complete the ideal woman.”

“Even when fighting unfairly, the inner emasculation Gaston has possessed throughout the film is not enough to stand up against, let alone tear down, the ideal man. The Beast’s identity as the ideal man is secure, but the costseems to be too high. As he lies dying from the wounds he has sustained, Belle expresses her love for him, and these words result in the explicit union of the ideal woman and the ideal man. This ideal, heterosexual coupling named “true love” breaks the spell which has plagued the castle. Belle has served her gendered purpose. She has loved, served, and suffered beautifully enough to provide a happily ever after for herself, the prince, and all of the household servants. Her reward is the, now-human, ideal man…”

“Belle is overwhelmingly pleased with the human appearance of the Beast, drawing a sharp contrast to the Beauty in Cocteau’s adaptation. Their sexual attraction is strengthened rather than weakened, and Belle does not have to make a sacrifice of personal preference to stay with him. The happy union of the ideal man and woman may seem a bit overdramatized, but this is not done to the point of incredulity in the Disney Corporation’s film. The utopia and happiness on the screen is shown as being attainable, albeit exclusive. By virtue of being shown on the screen, both as the Beast’s domain and the prince’s lavish palace, this place is given validity as something which not only has the possibility to exist but as a place which a select few will be able to inhabit. The notion of the beauty getting her prince, a castle, and a “happily ever after” isnot parodied by the Disney Corporation. Rather, it is promised, so long as those wishing to attain it remain intelligible on the gender binary and participate in the patriarchal, heteronormativity which the company promotes.”

Dreamworks’ Shrek (2004)“DreamWorks Animation’s Shrek opposes the Disney Corporation’s Beauty and the Beast, seemingly at every turn, even from the opening scene. The story begins with the opening of a book of fairy tales, mirroring the same opening of the Disney Corporation’s adaptation. It is here that things take a turn for the unexpected. Scoffing at the notion of fairy tales and their ‘happily ever afters,’ the title character rips a page out of a storybook and proceeds to use the page in lieu of toilet paper. In response to the notion of “true love’s first kiss,” Shrek scoffs “like that’s ever gonna happen.” This shocking first impression labels the title character as a beast in the eyes of the viewer before he is seen on the screen. By quite literally defecating on the Disney Corporation’s notion of heteronormative utopia, DreamWorks leaves no room for doubt that this film is intended as a reaction to the Disney Corporation’s concept of the ideal man and woman.”

“Shrek is not the Beast from Cocteau’s or the Disney Corporation’s films; he does not possess an impregnable space which others fear to approach. As an ogre, he belongs to the fairy-tale community at large, and the refugees feel that they have a right to his isolated, and therefore safe, realm.”

“By virtue of living in his swamp, Shrek escapes much of the homophobic negativity forced upon those like him in the beginning of the film. This swamp is seen as a safe haven for the non-binary, anthropomorphic fairy-tale characters who seek out refuge from the violence perpetuated against them. It exists inan outside realm with no threatening authority to police their presentation of heteronormative gender and sexuality, which, by their very nature, the fairy-tale characters are mostly incapable of providing.”

“Lord Farquad’s constant embodiment of patriarchal heteronormativity quickly and easily portrays him as the villain of the film. He does not, unlike Avenant and Gaston, get a chance at playing the “good guy.” More so than either suitor in the previous films discussed in this essay, Lord Farquad acts as the unyielding defender of heterosexual relations and heteronormative presentation. In his eyes, humanity is determined by these same concepts.”

“Shrek’s relative naïveté of the hate crimes being perpetuated against the fairy tale characters, along with his disbelief that he is similar to them, prompt him to seek out aid from the heteronormative, humanoid society within Duloc. At this point in the film, he seems not to understand his own “Otherness” which he so readily embraces when it allows him to live in solitude. For the first time, he is faced with the same discriminatory and violent treatment as the refugees whom he is trying to evict from his home. His life is threatened because he dared tocross over the barrier between queer existence into the realm of heteronormativity.”

“Princess Fiona’s predicament, however, is the exact opposite than that of Shrek; cursed to transform as an ogre during the night, she wishes to present and to only be seen as the ideal woman, the damsel in the tower. She is less than pleased that her rescue is not storybook in nature, and she is livid when she finds out her knight is an ogre rather than the ideal man who she imagined. The desire she has to hide herself during her nightly transformations is not unlike the desire of those with gender identity disorder to perform their given sex while hiding their true sex from the world.”

“On the last night of their journey, Princess Fiona’s secret is revealed. Her “coming out” is a complete accident, and Donkey’s outbursts of incredulity do nothing to soothe her as she faces invalidation from a member of the community to which she truly belongs. She experiences self- loathing, referring to herself as a beast. Yet she does not deny that she is not this particular, monstrous identity. By indicating that her transformations have taken place from when she was alittle girl, Princess Fiona replicates a common narrative to those within the LGBTQ community.”

“Princess Fiona’s final transformation shares elements with those of Cocteau’s and the Disney Corporation’s beasts. She is swept up in a wave of magic and saved by true love. Yet it is crucial to remember that, despite her state of physical transformation, she is still the Beauty character within the narrative. Just like her predecessors, she must first struggle against the beast before attaining a state of acceptance of herself and of her victorious suitor. Princess Fiona, much like Cocteau’s Beauty, comes to a deeper understanding of herself and her sexuality … In both cases, the challenge is one of sexual realization that lies outside of heteronormativity. Yet, unlike Cocteau’s Beauty, this knowledge is not something that Princess Fiona can stifle while accepting her lit in marriage to her suitor. The union between Shrek and Princess Fiona is celebrated by the fairytale community as well as the citizens of Duloc. They arenot placed on pedestals as ideals, but they are welcomed by a community which shares their personal joy in a major life event. Their existence is that of a simple couple who are no different from any other.”

“The inclusivity of the swamp is proven by the wedding celebration; people and fairy-tale characters of all sorts are capable of existing within this particular area. It is not cut off from the rest of the world, untouchable, or ideal. It is simply a home. There is no guarantee of eternal happiness and ease, because that is not reality. The magic of this place lies in its inhabitants; two nonbinary characters are able to form a union and inhabit a space without risk of harm ordiscrimination from those around them. Contrasted with the violence which fairy-tale characters experienced throughout the film, a promise of a safe home is closer to a utopia than any far-away world could be. To exist while openly embracing their true identities and sexualities is more thancould have been hoped for while Lord Farquad was still the ruling figure. For members of the LGBTQ community, this place of openness and acceptance is utopia, one that can be made into a reality outside of fairy tales.”

Conclusion

“Fairy tales, in their versatility, remain an excellent medium for the conveyance of ideologies. Although this essay focuses on messages of sexuality, such tales open themselves up to a broad spectrum of criticism and interpretations. Much like their adaptability to location and era, these tales morph to serve the needs of those who adapt them as well as those who choose to read them. With these three filmic adaptations of type 425C, heterosexuality has been reluctantlyaccepted, wholeheartedly embraced, and blatantly rejected. By virtue of their source material, all three are linked, even though they are drastically different from one another. As long as the notion of a “happily ever after” exists, there will be tales and tellers to recount how one can go about obtaining this end, be it through magic, social class, or love.”

I know this is a really long answer, but I hope you enjoyed it and that it wasn’t too academic. If you want the academic side, I’d be happy to send you my bibliography!

[100chupa-chups]

The Not-Date Date

Wind susurrates through the large empty space sprawled right in the epicentre of the city, as if dropped there by mistake; a permanent fixture created through the misjudgement of a minion to some high and mighty supervillain. Still, somehow, as I sit here shivering with my arms like a vice around my knees in some failed attempt to stave off the cold, I can’t help but know it is meant to be here. Like the innate understanding that I am human, I understand this has all been premeditated. Slabs of concrete and stone the kind of grey that performs osmosis with the old men in sharp business suits with their unimaginative ties and shining oxfords. The kind of grey that remains unseen amongst the rainbow of pride. And in the middle, like a dream, green like the emerald city.

The grass has been freshly unravelled and the lines between each carpet are distinct and surreal like the way school at night is surreal, like the way hospitals are surreal, like the way waking up in someone else’s house with a sudden lapse in memory is surreal. I sit at the edge of the grey border so only my toes curl and wiggle into the blades, sandshoes and socks arranged neatly next to my bright orange back pack that is a beacon at my side.

It may be cold now even through the layers of plaid flannel, singlet and jumper, my pants as grey as the buildings around me, but this feeling is as nothing I’ve ever experienced. This feeling of sitting near grass too new, this feeling of sitting amongst a bustling city, surrounded by cars and people and a cacophony of noise that is no louder than music in my ears, this feeling of importance and sheer insignificance all at one, yet knowing intimately that if I were to go, nothing would change. Not a thing would change. The workers dressed in fluorescent yellow descending underground through a glorified man hole would continue to work, and the world would still turn. The winter would turn to spring and spring to summer and summer to autumn just as it had been before me, and just as it will be after me.

The roads of the city wrap like string around the small park, as if it were a bead threaded in a home crafted bracelet. Cars and busses drive in tandem, people stroll along the distant pavement, individuals in a world full of similarities. Cars and busses drive with wheels, have passengers, move from one place to another and are easily recognisable; they are vehicles. They are the epitome of city life.

But the people. Who are they? You look, and you don’t know.

Okay, you might say, that one is five foot, eight inches and has brown hair pulled into a severe bun at the top of their head.

But are they wearing heels? Do they walk with their back hunched? Are they flat footed? Is that person a woman or a man or somewhere in between? Is that person gay or straight or along the spectrum? Is that person religious or atheist or agnostic? Was that person born here, or are they Asian, or African, or American? Who is that person? What do they think as they wander through the city to a place only a select few people know they are going to? What are their hobbies? Do they like pasta? Do they hate the fatty texture of avocado?

We don’t know the half of anyone’s story.

Even now, I am someone in a place of so many other someone’s. I am directly across the grass from a person who wears what looks like a poncho with the pattern of an oriental rug, but I can’t be too sure. I am so distanced, so removed from their that I will never truly know. Do they look at me and wonder what I believe in? Are they wondering what I will do when I leave this place?

I breathe in and the whole world smells like city, but like city in the way that the scent of sticky pavement and car fumes are cancelled out by the sweet aroma of nearby markets full of fresh bread and roasted nuts. It is almost as if my nose has been assaulted by so many different smells, so many contradicting elements of taste and culture that I can’t smell anything at all. Like mixing a thousand colours together and you get one single colour that is unremarkable, irrelevant, despite the good and the bag that makes it up. It’s not beautiful, it’s not horrific. It just is.

Behind me, the pedestrian crossing shrills like an angry robot. I peek over my shoulder, braid tickling the skin at the base of by neck and watch as so many different people walk and pass each other with barely a glance. People with brown hair piled high and blonde hair hanging loose, someone with a flowing yellow skirt, a woman in black dress pants and a lacy white blouse, a man with galaxy yoga pants and a blue zip up jacket, children holding tight to tired fingers. And there, among them all, she strides forwards, artist fingers wrapped diligently around the straps of her own backpack.

She looks at me with a smirk etched so smugly onto her lips.

My face burns and I jerk my head away, ducking down to hide from her gaze, fingers digging like claws into my shins as if that will help me slow my heart and perhaps breathe properly for the first time since Monday. Monday when she. . .well.

Let me just say that I have never been one to approach people, so when she declared in the middle of a conversation we have every day at about 1:50pm just before we both go out separate ways from school, that we would be meeting at this exact time at this exact place for a date she had been waiting for for months, I couldn’t very well say no. Not when she smiles like she does, not when her callused hand grabbed my forearm so tightly, not when her brown eyes had been filled with fierce determination. To be completely honest, all I did was nod and try not to hyperventilate at the contact.

I never said I didn’t like confident people, I just said that I wasn’t confident.

Wordlessly, I train my eyes on the flock of pigeons waddling before me as I wait for her to sit, pretending I had never seen her even if we both know I did.

What is it with pigeons anyway?

With their wacky head bang like they belong on a stage during a particularly aggressive rock concert, and their crooked eyeballs that is so alike the comic relief in the weird penguin group in Madagascar. I could almost reach down with my quaking hands and snatch them right from the grass. And their feathers are iridescent, but it reminds me of oil slick, with colours reflected on the surface from the beams of sunlight. Green and red and blue like stained glass, except not really.

It would be breathtaking if it weren’t so unsettling to look at.

I startle as her bag drops heavily into the space beside me and something heavy thunks alarmingly loud against the hard concrete. A moment later, with the hiss-click of a Monster energy drink can, she flops herself so close to me the entire length of her blue skinny jean covered thigh is against my own.

Embarrassment floods through me as I swallow, unable to move away. Unable to look away.

“Hello,” she says, mouth still quirked into a grin with the kind of quiet coolness that only comes with a great deal of self-confidence or Gryffindor courage. “Sorry I’m a little late. I underestimated how long the trip would take.”

Blinking, I whip my head out so fast my neck cracks. “It’s alright. I was early anyway.”

Well, there’s a reason Pottermore put me in Slytherin and not Gryffindor.

She frowns, brows pinching, and wipes her top lip. “You weren’t waiting too long, were you?”

Without thinking about it, my eyes stray to the small pendant in the shape of an eye resting against her collar bone, then wander to the patch of blue sky between the white cotton clouds puffing like a steam powered train overhead. “I left at nine,” I mumble into my arms.

Early by three fucking hours. I raise my eyes and meet her gaze for a moment, momentarily pushing past the cowardice that has plagued me for a very, very long time. My face is so hot I fear it may fall right off.

But her lips twitch, downturned eyes crinkling. “Oh, yeah?”

I wet my own lips unconsciously. “Yeah,” I croak. Wracking my brain I struggle to come up with something funny. “See, I tend to overestimate how long it takes to get places, so I just double the time I think it will take and suffer the consequences later.”

God help me Jesus. Why am I like this?

“Foolproof plan,” she chuckles. “I like it.”

“Yeah, at least I’m never going to be late.” I almost groan at that. Did I say ‘yeah’ too many times?

We fall into a near tense silence and she tilts the can back to down another mouthful. The vibrant colours flash so bright in my peripheral it’s almost as if she’s holding a festive lantern in a dark room.

Behind us, the pedestrian crossing chimes again and a child screeches out, “Mummy lookit, lookit!”

I clear my throat, fiddling with the end of my braid. “So, uh. . .not that I want you to leave or that I don’t want to be here, but I’m just wandering. . .Why? Why did you ask me out? I don’t understand.”

She freezes with her hand almost to her face, energy drink clutched and forgotten in her loose fingers. Twisting around to face me, she says, “You’re kidding, right?”

I blink dumbly. “No?”

She stares, jaw dropped open. “You’ve been flirting with me for months!”

“I have?” No, really, I have?

“You didn’t want to be?” she asks, incredulous, eyes widening. “But I thought—”

I flail my arms. “No! It’s not that I don’t want to be here, on a date with the most—I want to be here! I just didn’t realise that was what I was doing! I was being awkward and oversharing.”

She starts laughing and drops her head into her spread hand. “Oh, my God. Oh. My. Freaking. God. You kept touching me and staring at my mouth! What was I supposed to do? Ignore it?”

Oh, Jesus I had been staring at her too much. Christ on a pogo stick.

“In my defence, how could I not look at you?”

She gasps out, “Oh, my God.”

[jonboudposts]

General Election 3: British Culture is the Problem

1. The Dark Side

One thing for certain about the upcoming General Election on 8 June is that for once we the voters have a choice.  While our piss-weak press went batty over the Labour Party manifesto even before it was released, the rest of us have the chance to see what a real political alternative looks like.  The present state of affairs that produces no improvement for the majority will be provided by electing Teresa May’s government into power.  

The Conservative election campaign is the epitome of the empty rhetoric of modern politics, all about appearance and no depth.  They have no real policies, no costing for their policies (because they do not believe there is a need to) and the few they have show contempt for the public. They stay ‘on message’, one of the most loaded phases in politics, that basically means repeat the same thing until people believe it (where did I read about that being effective?).

Instead of meeting anyone or debating anyone, Theresa May is toured around rooms full of supporters while drooling on about being strong and stable, making personal attacks and nothing else against the leader of the opposition and claiming Europe is out to get her.  The Conservatives are so desperate to keep money on side (their only real god) that they have even screwed over pensioners; the group most likely to vote Conservative.  There are a few reasons for doing this, but chief among them is outright disrespect for the people affected by their policy and arrogance that they can get away with it.

But we must face the fact the Tories believe they can get away with it because of our inaction.

The Labour Party have put forward a progressive and people-centred manifesto that seeks to bring equality to the country and address the severe damage done to many people’s lives by the Conservative austerity rule since 2010.  Many of the policies have been drawn up based on results from polls and public opinion, particularly the re-nationalisation of the railways, water and Royal Mail.

However, there is a rather familiar echo coming from many places that said these policies are what they want.  You have probably heard it, may have even said it; ‘I like the policies/ideas/whatever, but do not like Jeremy Corbyn’ for some unspecified reason; or ‘well there are some good ideas but can they really make it happen?’ or the truly repulsive ‘I don’t want to rock the boat/am too old to change’, etc.  

Most of these people I talk to also say they do not like Theresa May (and never mention Tim Fallon) but still have this almost in-built fear of change, of taking control of their own lives.  There seems to be a lack of understanding about what is actually on the line here.

Let me say this again; Mr Corbyn is willing to give people what they say they want, such as improvements to wages, saving the NHS and putting railways back into public ownership. What most of us often say we want. Now, do you really want these things?

Public of Britain – can you handle a real choice?  

I am afraid you may not be able to.  Years of conditioning and refusal to step out of your comfort zone means when you actually get the option you want, when the time comes to step up and make that choice, you back down.  Let us be honest, many of you are perfectly comfortable.  The middle class in particular have achieved the golden throne of ‘comfortable’.  You are comfortable in deterioration; comfortable in defeat and comfortable so long as no one comes and attacks you directly. You were scared by the financial crisis and surface-level disgusted at the way neo-liberalism-loving banks and their irresponsible staff were bailed out and never faced justice but now…well, everything seems alright again really and we do not want to upset business as some of them may leave and take their great jobs with them – so let’s just go back to being quiet.

Many working class people are just about comfortable too (although far less securely).  All of you however have never been good at coping with change, even when you had a backbone.  The economic changes of thirty years ago usually hit you the worse, but even the idea of ditching an economic system that turns you into little more than slaves is too much to imagine now.

I believe this is the result of a few things but the main one is the internalisation of the class war of the last thirty years.  It has made people weak, reactionary and prone to think too little of themselves and often overtly hateful to others.  You are not willing to stand up or stand out and hate anyone who does.  You people care more about your fucking flag than you do about the future for your children and grandchildren.  My greatest fear is this is the dominant way of thinking in our national psyche.

‘There is a battle of narratives. The working-class narrative is being erased. And as you erase that narrative, you erase truths with it.’ – Mark Thomas

My dad once told me a story about growing up in Camberwell.  He would listen to the adults around him complaining about the Conservative government of the time.  However, when election time came around, they voted Conservative.  ‘Well’ they would respond when dad asked why; ‘they know what they are doing’.  Although it was common during David Cameron’s government to agree that the lack of diversity of his cabinet – privately educated, posh background, never having a real job – was not good for government, it seems in practice many people think this set up is fine, because after all, they know what they are doing. They are well educated unlike us and have run businesses probably and were raised for this position.  The arrogance of their class is not something that really bothers you; if anything it provides a certain sort of security.

These are the elites that you say you hate, right?

No, since Brexit and perhaps before, it is the likes of me that are elitist.  With my aspiration for education and wanting to bring equality of opportunity to all.  Never mind all the shit jobs I have done through my life and the position I am in now; no, I am that London Liberal Falafel Elite.  Not them, who have thrived from the misery they inflict on so many, which they can do because we do not stand up to them.

They made you powerless; so now you want to make me powerless.

The present culture is one of receiving whatever is thrown at us and considering ourselves lucky for some reason.  I am not and never will be ‘lucky’ to have a job.  That is the thinking of the weak and defeated; the malleable and easily-controlled.  We give these people their money and their power; we generate that which they love and hold over us.  We owe them nothing.

There is a lack of hope because people do not want hope.  They are secure in defeat.  They do not want four more Bank Holidays because they do not think they deserve them. They do not want their children to get better access to education because they do not deserve it.  They do not want equality because too many of them fear it will take away what little they have (although they have far more than they admit) and no matter how big and tough the average bloke is, he will not take on his boss because at heart he is a coward.

Never mind who stands for election on what platform – if we do not address this cultural failure, we will never move forward.

We need to cut out this pretence of politeness that people are so obsessed with.  This is not to advocate being unkind to each other on public transport or in the street; or to people serving you food or similar services; but when it comes to politics, do not judge someone’s argument on criteria like dismissing them if they swear or get passionate.  Knowledge is something to care about.

The political elite have a horrible middle class notion of being polite to each other and many of us follow that without thinking. The problem with this is that ultimately it is an empty politeness that prevents anything worthwhile taking place.

We need to tell people when they are wrong and tell toxic people their opinions do not matter to us, then move on and leave them in the dust.  We can start with the anti-PC Brigade; consisting of the professionally insulted and screaming bigots who cannot cope with a world where women have opinions and gays have sex.

Many of these right-wing wing nuts would use language against us as a wind up; words like ‘snowflake’ to describe someone upset by the latest bigotry bile; or ‘triggered’ to someone who responds to suggestions Muslims should be put in camps or whatever. Strangely though, it is much easier to trigger a anti-PC bitch than it is anyone else – try saying Happy Holidays at Christmas time, or having an egg hunt at Easter.  Witness the latest antics of Kelvin McKenzie; who perhaps epitomises the inability to ‘get over it’ no matter how well you are doing. For a bunch of people ‘winning’, they act rather like the opposite. Permanently pissed off because they know that the fundamental parts of the culture war have been lost and they will never get it back.

These commentators and social media parasites have no such qualms of politeness towards the rest of us. They will attack anyone to the left of Genghis Khan, harass LGBT people in some cases to their suicide, plus just straight-up attack people (especially Jeremy Corbyn) on purely personal grounds. The overt Islamaphobia that comes from these quarters, with anti-Antisemitism usually not far behind, must cease to be as tolerated as it presently is within the mainstream.  These people often hide behind legitimate concerns and campaigns such as against FGM, but their reasons are nothing to do with concern for young girls being brutalised; they just hate Muslims and ‘outsiders’ and always have.

Their argument is not about political correctness or the attacking of any non-existent ‘indigenous’ culture; this is about rejecting equality.  These are the same people who have always hated the alternative, women, ethnic minorities or anyone not male, pale and stale like them.  Anti-PCers do not know how to co-exist and do not want to learn.  They will always hate anyone who does not agree with them and their out-of-date and fact-less view of the world.  They are the ones with integration problems.

The Conservatives have done and will continue to do horrible and destructive things to the people of this country and internationally and not only will I not accepts this, I will never forgive them for it.  I see no reason to be compelled to be polite when dealing with them or their supporters, even around a family dinner table.  If you vote for something, the result is partly your responsibility and you will be held to account.  

You cannot hide like your incompetent and careless leader Mrs May.

It is time to strike back and stop taking this shit.  If you are not my politics, you are not my friend.  We may be able to hold a conversation or even have the odd cup of tea together but the present political climate and the people who put us here are unacceptable to me and we will never bridge that gap.

I feel this way for one reason above all else – because the chummy nature of so much politics and culture clash shows me that you do not really have any skin in this game.  

Divisions between our political beliefs are good, they should be embraced.  For how can we evolve when being held back by the weak and jealous?  The Anti-PC Brigade are not just your enemy, they are modern Britain’s enemy and they must be crushed.  This should be a fundamental to our understanding of the world we live in and must navigate through every day.  But we do not.

How did we get to this point?  

The prevailing influence in British or certainly English culture is one of hopelessness.  Defeat and hating anyone, including within your own family, who even look for a second like they may do ‘better’ than you is more common than we might like to admit.  This in a genuine politics of resentment, not a fake Tory-defined one

Many people have drunk the toxic cocktail of hopelessness mixed with nihilism and a life-stripping horror that makes sure defeat is inevitable before you start.  This poison must be destroyed, or there simply cannot be any advancement for people, young or otherwise, in Britain.

The only antidote I can see is Labour Manifesto.

I hope we can turn this around but it may be too late to really change this downward spiral of self-destruction.  I hope for many things.  I hope because I can; because hope is a choice. You have it too.