#weren’t disgusted by it - it was very clearly designed to shock and repulse us

[vampyr-bite]

just saw the whale and im sorry but if that film wins any oscars then i will be annoyed like i’m kind of pissed off that this is how brendan fraser has returned to hollywood because that movie was one of the most unnecessarily cruel things i’ve had to sit through plus it was just full of offensively artificial and simplistic and manipulative claptrap that was so wildly disconnected from actual human behaviour like. characters just turning up to Announce stuff and Demand stuff? fuck aronofsky lol the dude doesn’t have a single sincere bone in his body

[ganymedesclock]

Ghirahim and gendered expectations of sensuality

So, as people who’ve seen my previous Zelda posts might gather, I have a mixed relationship with Skyward Sword. On the one hand, I think many of its characters have tremendous potential. On the other, I feel like the game largely did not live up to that potential, and in some areas, it feels rather deliberate. But suffice to say, elements of Skyward Sword have meant that certain characters- Batreaux, Groose, Fi, and Ghirahim are not far from my mind.

A brief primer, for those who might be unfamiliar: Ghirahim is the main antagonist of Skyward Sword, and a bit of an aberration in the common Zelda formula, which tends to introduce a ‘decoy’ or “lieutenant” antagonist who dominates for most of the game and then bows out towards the end as the prelude to the true final boss- usually Ganondorf, in Skyward Sword’s case, it’s the demon god and a figure we are clearly supposed to scan as Ganondorf’s divine progenitor, Demise.

Ghirahim is quite openly a harbinger of, and servant to, Demise- where he breaks script is by being extremely proactive. We run into Ghirahim in most dungeons in the game, where he is not waiting idly for us, but doing actions that veteran Zelda players might recognize as comparable to Link’s: he breaks into dungeons either chasing Zelda, or chasing information that will allow him to proceed. We also have not one but three different fights with him, personally, and several other times he concedes that he doesn’t have time to play with Link and instead sics a boss monster on him.

The other thing about Ghirahim is, I will outright say it: He is written as a caricature of a predatory queer man.

He’s shown to be literally bloodthirsty, and presented by the narrative ostensibly as someone who has a sinister, perverse interest in both Link and Zelda, a contrast to their saintly, chaste union (which is supposed to read as a union; pursue a romantic sideplot with Peatrice, another girl in the game, and Fi will pretty much openly admonish you for cheating on Zelda, saying that Zelda wouldn’t be happy to know Link’s seeing someone and that Link should know that)

This is, really, a bit jarring, when Ghirahim’s actual dialogue suggests that he has very little interest in Link and views him much like a butler tending the master’s house while the latter is away might view a feral golden retriever that’s running loose in the place and getting mud on everything. His emotional range runs from warmly patronizing to exasperated to a truly dangerous degree (since, in this metaphor, the butler has also been tending the master’s house in near-total isolation for something like several centuries not having real conversations with the other servants and nobody’s at their psychological best in those situations even if they weren’t implicitly born and raised to murder).

Basically: that Ghirahim has no real interest in Link- not his body or appearance or anything. In his own dialogue, he seems confused by the idea that he’s at all interested, is apologetic that he’s wasting his time or dawdling and in his final scene, offers a genuinely flummoxed “you... who are you?” He offers colorful, violent threats, but when Link obstinately faces him again, he’s shown to be almost embarrassed and disgusted by them, and tries something else that almost no Zelda antagonist does: on multiple occasions, he tells Link to just walk away from the situation with what appears to be every intent of letting him go.

Ghirahim does not want Link for himself. He seems to, begrudgingly, against his own intentions, value Link as someone to fight against, but this connection does not actualize within the story- they are not really rivals. He isn’t even that deeply fond of the idea of Link’s blood, though he’s a proponent of blood as a vague concept.

Now, I like Ghirahim. I don’t think that even the read of Ghirahim as a queer man is a terrible one. But it definitely is interesting the lens in which Ghirahim’s implicit sensuality is cast. Basically, he is depicted as creeping on Link, without any real sense that he wants Link. Because it isn’t about what he wants- it’s about that implicitly he has a sexuality, and the idea of a man who might be attracted to other men is threatening, evil, and scary. Ghirahim wasn’t made queer-coded for representation’s sake. He was queer-coded to suggest he was depraved and motivated by a sinister lust. And the cruelty of this depiction is I think made immediately clear by- Ghirahim’s actual interests, passion, or preferences do not factor in here. That Scene Where Ghirahim Does The Tongue Thing is about how it is expected to make the player feel, and how implicitly Link feels.

What is Ghirahim’s type? Does he consider Demise beautiful? He makes it pretty clear he considers Link a brat. These are questions that aren’t asked, because it’s wrong that Ghirahim seems to have any sexuality at all- and, since Link is our lens and our guidepost for how we’re supposed to feel about characters, if Ghirahim behaves in a sensual manner it happens to Link, and to Zelda, invasively. Even though it is shown he feels no desire for any of these people, so that sensuality basically comes across like the game is firmly expecting us to find the idea of even an e-rated sensual male antagonist repulsive.

This led me down a very odd sort of rabbit trail.

Because Ghirahim- a bit indirectly- is inspired off a figure skater.

Specifically, Fi’s design was stated to evoke a figure skater, and we even see her ‘skating’ in several of the cutscenes. Ghirahim’s design matches Fi’s quite strongly; they were designed to be two of a kind.

I am not, myself, a figure skating buff, but a while ago, I happened across youtube videos of a skater named Johnny Weir. 

Quickly, you can see the sword spirits’ inspirations; the close-fitting leotards, the lithe, acrobatic capabilities.

But here’s the thing about Johnny Weir: this is a guy putting on a sensual performance that is not a gross-out, a joke, or a threat. It’s basically impossible to find nothing suggestive in his choice of backup movement or the movements he makes running his hands along his body- his costume even asserts these more with the mirrored details on his gloves. This is a dude, acting in a way you could say is objectively sensual even if it may or may not stir every viewer given the individual nature of preference.

But there’s a world of difference to Weir’s performance. Not just that this is a voluntary choice made by a real person, while Ghirahim’s choices, even if they have in-game logic, are largely about Link and about the player- but Johnny Weir is having fun. He has a charming energy to him and is performing to a song he loves.

Watching Johnny Weir, it occurred to me, that regardless of Weir’s own orientation- that I do not know and will not speculate on- there’s a preconception around “being sexy”. Women are seen as supposed to be sexy (but, in many circles, not too sexy. Can’t insinuate they know what they’re doing, or have opinions and tastes...), or, more, “sexy is seen as a job that women do for men specifically.”

So, to homophobic audiences... a man deliberately enacting a sensual performance- a sense of what sensual looks like from a dude- is seen as weird, wild, and out there. If you’re not shocked by the implications that Ghirahim may be attracted to men, may be into Link, may be into the idea of torturing Link- then a certain amount of his writing kind of falls apart. 

And comparing the way Ghirahim is animated and shot to Johnny Weir’s performance, it’s kind of... weak? Like, at one point in Weir’s routine, he lifts one leg and slides his fingertips down it in a smooth stroke from knee to thigh. It’s a steamy looking move, and this coming from someone who is so prodigiously ace I thought sexual attraction was made up for the first seventeen years of my life.

Ghirahim does not do that. He’s got thigh cutouts in his very close-fitting outfit, and has lines in his second fight about his body and how beautiful it is, but he does not make these movements that deliberately catch and draw the eye along the planes of him.

To me, I feel like besides this being a general affront against real queer people- the Zelda games have a concerning habit of depicting “eccentric, effeminate” men as either neutral characters or open villains and virtually always with this air of being the brunt of a joke (it’s very hard to imagine ALBW’s Yuga was designed by someone who earnestly loved this character)- it is also a bit rude to the character of Ghirahim himself.

Because Ghirahim, at the end of the day, is someone who ends the story heartbroken literally and figuratively. The entire game, he is driven by loyalty to Demise. He does not care who he hurts or threatens- and this comes back to the seeming implication that he is somewhat bloodthirsty, but vastly plays up his appetite for torture. When he thinks his goal is out of reach, he continues slogging away at it anyway, but listlessly. Everything he does, is for Demise. He is devoted enough to, late in the game, throw himself on Link’s sword for the third boss fight purely to stall for time until Demise revives.

Demise does not speak to Ghirahim, or acknowledge him, or even seemingly notice or care that by the time he comes back, Ghirahim’s metal heart has been torn open by being repeatedly stabbed by Link. (third boss fight is not kind.) Instead, he rips Ghirahim’s sword form out of his chest.

Ghirahim is a danger to Link, Impa, and Zelda, because he attacks them, and his own subordinates, because he threatens them. But to his master, he’s just a disposable pawn. This is a character driven by passion such that many of his poses and scenes show him nearly breaking into an actor’s soliloquy as he explains something to Link- and this is one way he does seem to like having Link around: he craves an audience.

And his passion is, in two ways, depicted as completely futile. First, in the dubious amount of oo scary gay man, watch out Link, he’s doing something weird with his tongue- and second and far more seriously, that everything he works for leaves him with nothing because his life never mattered for a second in the eyes of the person he lives and dies for.

Ghirahim is made a sensual character, but in a manner that feels bad faith- that feels like it has not thought about male sensuality in any direction besides “that’s wrong and icky, so we’ll attach it to our villain, who we want to be wrong and icky, and absolutely not suggest there’s anything particularly sad about what happens to him. His fault for being wrong and icky.”

[luxthecrownguard]

Write On + Lux's first royal gala

// I based it on her First Gala in general because I found it more fitting for character development. 

Another day in a society bent on building its civilians into functioning members of society despite, unlike most, there were things that set individuals apart and she was one of those. There were many terms that could be used to describe the vile intrusions of the world, in her case it could mean death. The defects as her parents would so kindly state behind her back, certainly not in front of others, but without a doubt to each other; What a bother this all was, the amount of money poured into such nuisances to celebrate unrelatable matters, smile… wave… dance, no room to deny the hands reaching out to consume whatever time they could in her day. Vultures wishing to gain a leg into a household they have no business but it was their way to exert their dominance when they could… Lux… she hated it. Parading around in faulty material that was impractical, masks that carve specific impressions designed to intrigue the opposite party. Politics, tricky and a massacre to society because it was littered with nothing but lies. Today, she would have to just that, participate in the unending dance of socialization, smiling to seem pleasant like nothing were wrong and that nothing bothered her. Learning to deny yourself over others was certainly the worse of it, the ideations behind mingling to please those around you and offer them an unforgettable moment; A groan left her lips along with the remaining air in her chest as she held on to the bed post, nails digging into the carved wood hanging her head and the blonde strands following the movement as they slide off her shoulders. The maid tugged viciously at the threads strung through the corset, “ Is this…r…really necessary….?” Asking in a breathless tone at the rather uncomfortable accessory to her garment. “ It is at your mother’s request that you be fitted with this Ma'Lady,” the woman whispered before fetching the fine garment. There were moments where she cursed the days, recently she'd been given the right to adulthood upon growing a year older... not just any number, 12, the bridge in which desire manifested and the parade for suitors began; Not only was it a normal consistency across the minds of society but being bred for the crown and the military training from the beginning fell right behind it. Of course, everyone was introduced into military induction at some point, family and status definitely played a role at where they started… that she hated, she’d heard rumors of Noxus and their military upbringing. Everyone started at the same place and earned their rank… but it was only a rumor, whether it was true, that was a different story. The top was fashioned to fit a mistress of war, a breastplate made of sturdy fabric and the bottom more of a chaotic feeling with the tulle pushing outward, “ I hate when she insists on dre….” a rather unamused tone had taken full effect only to be cut short by just that figure coming into view, her mother perched inside her door frame. Slender, shorter than average and holding quite the resemblance to the mage... at least that was what most people couldn't refrain from saying. “ Oh, my child,” An enthusiastic beginning to what would end as her dominating a conversation, “ You look like a proper Crownguard. Remember what we wen….” A sigh left her lips, stomping a foot against the ground, barking her distaste for her daughter's stance, “ Luxanna! Stand straight, no slouching you’re not a commoner… I taught you better than that.” At the sound of her raised pitch, the girl more than obeyed immediately correcting her posture. A quick mask developing once more to hide her outburst, there were times where the doubt became apparent that her mother no longer knew who she was beneath a subservient wife. Her mother smiled once more, “ Now, we’ve discussed how this will go…”A few strides to close the distance between them, reaching a slender hand over to pick up delicate gloves designed just for these monotonous occasions. Blue orbs glanced down briefly, reluctantly the girl tugged the worn leather ones off her fingers, they’d become a  comfort zone almost like a cage bolted shut. 

Even though it was only seconds, the moment she discarded her barrier onto her bed, discomfort as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Louder and louder the beating got in her ears as her blood pumped quicker, air was swept clean from her lungs…. a quick panic was setting in; Swiping the gloves from offering hands and sliding them on a hard swallow followed and a wave of relief. The sight was only brief, having barely caught it that flicker of disgust when her hand had brushed hers. “You are not to take these off for any reason tonight. I would not want anyone to learn of your ….shortcomings, it would be detrimental in more ways than one for your father. Wouldn't want him to suffer due to your incompetence….” Looking to the servant, “ Finish getting her ready and escort her down, a Lady must be early to accept the guests’ arrival. Present till the very end.” With that, a swift exit and the tension in the room dissipated much easier than it came. Gritting her teeth, one hand gripping the other in an attempt to quell the rising ride of anger, “ That… woman….” A huff escaped painted lips, a few calming breaths and that warm sensation that had roamed beneath her skin began to subside. Forcing a small smile onto her lips, turning to the servant, “ Come. I would not want you to get in trouble because of me…” The heels were like a clock tapping against the ground, each step she allowed to grace the floors recorded her existence in the halls; Everything had been pulled out for this simple event… .there were no reasons just a moment to show off, present standing and gain respective connections to others. Stationed next to her brother who was always a saving grace even if his mind didn’t want him to believe the truth, he flashed a comforting smile. Her father was stern, unwavering, having entered the room she didn't even earn a simple glance or even an ounce of acknowledgment. He had become distant, repulsed by her existence since revealing that she had magical inheritance; Excelling in everything it still wasn’t enough to earn a glance in this situation. No eyes peered to view the secrets behind these walls, he just like mother wore a mask in front of guests and continued the parade of nobility as if it was written in some special book distributed among the masses. 

A sigh left her lips earning that famous glare from her mother, quite sure it could curdle milk if she looked at it long enough; People would begin to pour in, flocking for a look inside their home and make reaches, grabs for any strong they could find to gain a leg up. Venturing through the people she’d politely smile, greet them favorably and move on just like a good hostess, proper etiquette.. .all so tiresome. Speeches praising Demacia, the King and welcoming the visitors all so boring but this part she hated most. Dances…Closing her eyes briefly trying to adjust herself, no luck; slipping off to the side she cringed at the uncomfortable feeling of the corset cinching her waist, crushing her chest and giving her a chest where she didn’t have much of one. What a vile invention, a torture device she had deducted from the short time having worn it. Losing herself in the moment a hand was placed on her shoulder causing her to jump slightly, “ Come now Lux… you have to mingle wouldn’t want to make Mother angry.” Relief, if it was anyone he was the most comforting of the lot and definitely the only one who could make her smile in such a horrid situation “ I know I know Garen, I just… can’t breathe with this damned thing….” A groan left her lips as he chuckled. “ You’re a Crownguard. You can do it…” He would encourage pulling her back out to the party and departing as to not bring unwanted eyes. Not to say there weren’t those who took special interest, especially with her recent coming of age, those were the most unwanted to her. The first Sir VonBokern his sleazy mustache curling in certain ways that made his expressions more revolting than they should be. Cringing behind her bright smile she allowed for him to lead her out to the floor, swirling, again and again, wandering hands down her backside and each time she’d reach back and pull the hand back up. His breath encroaching in on her ear trying to whisper sweet nothings, his breath was heavily infused with strong licks of alcohol and the sloppy behavior he presented only supported the assumption. Each second bringing a heightened desire for an interruption. “Luxanna!” Her father’s voice would boom across the crowd pulling her attention immediately. Bidding her current dance partner a farewell, quickly tearing across the room a panic clear in the rushed steps,' Oh god... what have I done.' It was a simple that but it encompassed every bit of what she was feeling, for him to call her? She had to of done something wrong. “ Yes, Father?” She asked, a worried expression and a small shake in her tone. “ This is Andren, he’s the son of Sir VonBokern. It would please me….” There it was, that phrase that got her each time with the need to prove herself to him, “ if you would keep him company.” Whittled down to nothing once his intense glare settled upon her, but part of her couldn't help relishing in the moment. It was times like this that she took much stock in, it was still more recognition than her father gave her on a regular basis. “ Y….y..yes sir… of course, sir..” A sense of shock rising to each word, this was far from what she had expected. The notion to knowing eyes was clearly fake, a ruse to convince the onlookers of a functioning family from one end to the other, her father's hand reached out grasping her shoulder in a loving manner, “ That's my girl...” He cooed. Her heart lurched clear from her chest, unable to deny her desire to receive such praise. A lie she would let herself believe just this once, be fooled... just this once.

The boy said next to nothing, wouldn’t move to dance and was rather in her mind in the likeness of a statue, a far cry from the creep his father was. Fiddling with her gloves, the boy seemed to take notice and reached over taking her hand. No warning was given as he began to remove the cloth, no cause or reason to such unwarranted actions. Fear washed over her features, quickly retracting her hand from his grip, “ No!” She belted clutching her hand to her chest which caused a few glances. 

Andren taken back briefly by the sudden outburst didn't take long to respond roughly gripping her wrist, yanking it forward and sliding the glove off in one swoop; It was almost as if time had halted, laughing viciously at her misfortunes, heart dropped and breath caught in her throat... she had to get it back. A quick movement of her hand as it flew forward hitting him in the chest to create distance and then swiping his feet out from beneath him. Once his back hit the ground, ripping the glove from his hand she put it back on and took off back towards her room. There was no need to check, she could feel her father's eyes burning through her back as she fled the scene. A commotion created from something as simple as a glove was unacceptable and there was no doubt there would be consequences to such actions. Pacing the length of her room it didn't take long for someone to show up, first her mother who immediately began throwing insults, “ You insolent child, how dare you em....” Though it was quickly silenced by the head of the household trudging into the confines of her living space, his hand held up quickly silenced her. “ Father I...” Silenced in almost the same way, Lux shrank back when he held his hand up at her. “Why is it you insist on being so defiant!? I gave you a simple task and you couldn't even do that... There are times when I wish we were at war, then maybe you'd prove yourself useful... even your death would bring honor to this family in that situation,” He sighed, rubbing his temples agitated by the situation, “ There are times where I'm convinced there is not a chance you are my daughter, I like to believe you were switched at birth and my actual flesh and blood resides else where. Stay out of sight, I care not to see you leave this room for the remainder of the night...” What could she respond to that? Watching the couple leave she was frozen in her spot, knees wobbling in pure shock at what had just prospered before her eyes.