#what moves you today?

[today-it-is-this]

on the 21st of march, it was this — i watched andrew scott perform vanya at the lucille lortel theatre. and it was easily one of the most moving performances i have ever seen in my life, across all mediums. i left the theatre with my heart beating so fast and kind of in a daze, not sure how to process all of that but also kind of on the brink of tears. this was exactly what i meant when i said that i'm going to go and plan a trip to new york just to see some of my favorite actors perform live. to really see their acting in front of me, nothing to hide behind.

the play was the absolute perfect material for him. like andrew scott was meant to do this play, in the format of a one-man show where he portrays all the characters by himself. he gives an unbelievably funny, heart-wrenching, vulnerable performance. it's a force to be reckoned with. he's 100% generational talent, one in a million, it's unbelievable. i felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude at the end of the day. sheer goddang talent. it may sound like i'm exaggerating, but if you sat yourself down in that tiny, intimate theatre and watched andrew put himself out there in the most sensitive and open way for almost an hour and a half, i reckon you'd understand how i feel. i was so so speechless.

on the subway back, i read jesse green's review for the ny times and there are a couple of excerpts that i really like from it:

"“Vanya” is deeply serious and generally faithful in its engagement with Chekhov, offering not just a modernized gloss on the play’s language and settings (the husband is a pompous old filmmaker instead of a pompous old scholar) but also a new way of seeing into the heart of its beauty."

"Scott is endlessly and polymorphously resourceful, with an armamentarium of voices, faces, postures and ideas that in various combinations add up to a thousand specific effects... he produces these effects with no strain and no false modesty, and without ever dropping the ball of emotion."

"Scott’s full-body acting and wide-spectrum voice has obviated the need. He gives Ivan a pacing-in-place gesture that is the essence of want and wasted energy, along with the flustered high voice of a man about to burst a blood vessel. But Michael, with his deep engagement in the natural world, speaks only very deeply. Even their forms of drunkenness are distinct."

"What makes the production exemplary, like the play itself, is the emotion. I hate to think why Scott is such a sadness machine, but the tears (and blushes and glows and sneers) lie very shallow under his skin. He only rarely raises his voice. As the feelings are evidently coming directly and carefully from his heart, he narrowcasts them directly and carefully at yours."

"This “Vanya” is a reset. As strange as it is in conception, in performance it’s the best I’ve seen. Collecting Ivan and Helena and Michael and Sonia and the rest in one body, and filtering their emotions through one sensibility, does something odd: It makes of the characters an uber-character, with the widest possible range of human feeling, experience, intelligence and foolishness."

there is genuinely way too much to talk about. i'd typed out my immediate thoughts on my notes app and then journalled about it the next day, and here i am three days later still thinking about this play. what i would give to watch him perform it again x

21/03/2025

[hiseyeisonthesparrow]

[through gritted teeth, with fists clenched]

When upon life's billows you are tempest-tossed, when you are discouraged, thinking all is lost, COUNT YOUR MANY BLESSINGS, NAME THEM ONE BY ONE, AND IT WILL SURPRISE YOU WHAT THE LORD HAS DONE-

[cubbihue]

So.... why'd Peri get assigned Dev as his first godchild?

Jorgen’s usually not the one in charge of assigning godchildren. There’s an entire department that weighs and classifies potentail Godkids to the right Fairy. Although it’s on strike at the moment.

So Jorgen has to do it by hand, until the union negotiations are resolved. Turns out trying to use paperclips is very hard. Itty bitty paperclips. Big muscular biceps. Not a good combo.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Peri's Assignment: [Previous] > [Next]

[mask131]

I am re-reading the Silmarillion, and something strikes me. The women of Tolkien's world have been talked about TO DEATH especially with all the recurring debates surrounding the Rings of Power series.

As we all know, Tolkien was not a "feminist" in the modern sense of the word. He had a very male-centric point of view and appreciation of the world, he had male-driven and male-centered stories, and actual women characters were sparse and rare. There are only five really big female characters in "The Lord of the Rings" - the quintet of Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. [No, don't talk to me about Arwen, she only really was a character in the movies, in the book she's just there in the appendix and she was literaly an afterthought of Tolkien to act as Eowyn's romantic double...]

Consider this. Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. This tells you everything you need to know about Tolkien's women, in good and bad.

The Silmarillion has the same motif of having a lot of female characters, only for most of them to be just footnotes, secondary characters with no lines, under-developped one-liners... with in a contrast a handful of super-cool, super-badass, complex and developed heroines at the center of the plot.

Aka, on the bad side, when listing the Valar, while Tolkien gives an interesting personality, great domains and cool attributes to all the male ones, half of the female ones are just... there. And do one stuff. And never appear again. I mean come on... Vana and Nessa? Estë and Vairë were done dirty... That's the actual type of "non-feminism" Tolkien has. It isn't about him hating women or trying to be offensive in his depictions - it is about him just, not putting as much thought, effort and care into his female characters as his male ones, a bit the same way he creates the vast expanses of the East and South of Middle-Earth and then never bothers actually developing more of it or seeking to tell tales of it - but that's for another discussion about Tolkien's "racism". Here we talk about women.

But here's the thing, aka the good side... When Tolkien does find the time and care to develop and flesh out a female character, by Iluvatar he goes all out! Again, we are back on what I said earlier: the women of Lord of the Rings can be counted on one hand... but these fingers are Galadriel, Eowyn and Shelob, so you can't claim he isnt writing powerful, important or uninterestng female characters. Which leads me to my original remark - as usual I get driven away in digressions of all sorts and kinds.

Have you ever noticed that Melkor's greatest enemies, the ones he fears the most, and his most effective foes... are women? Tolkien might not like to put them front and center of his tales, and he might have been a man of the early 20th century England in culture and mind, but boy does he has something to say about how women are actually the first enemies of the literal embodiment of evil and destruction! I mean think about it. Varda of the Stars, and Yavanna of the trees. Nienna has her ambiguous relationship to him - her tears work against him, and yet without her plea for him he likely would not have been released from the dungeons of Mandos. You have Melian with her Girdle, and Luthien with her Hound. And of course most of all Arien, guardian of the Sun, not only one of the rare fire spirits that Melkor couldn't corrupt (despite him basically ruling over all fire), but that frightens him so much he keeps hiding away and doesn't even dare to attack her... [I also reblogged some times ago a post praising the brilliance of Tolkien keeping the old European sun-moon motifs but switching the genders. The weaker, inconsistant, lustful, whimsical, disorderly, untrustworthy Moon is now a male principle, while the steady, dangerous, strong, powerful and beautiful Sun is a woman.]

It is actually REALLY easy to do a feminist retelling of Tolkien's work. Melkor doesn't fear Manwë as much as Varda. Aulë's works and servants get corrupted by Melkor, while Yavanna's do not. Melian and Luthien actively works against him. He friggin' pisses himself when the Woman of the Sun shows up. Sure, there are some evil female characters that serve him down the line and are relegated to the "obscure footnotes and undescribed secondary characters" zone - Thuringwethil the vampire or queen Beruthiel. I coul also dropped deleted characters from early drafts, like the ogress Fluithuin. But among them stands Ungoliant... THE only true female big bad on the dark side of Arda. THE badass, nightmarish, creepy eldritch abomination. And who ends up double-crossing Melkor, almost KILLING him, and again making him basically shit in his pants - as Varda and Arien do.

The first enemies of Morgoth are not the Valar, or the Maiar, or the Elves... It's women.

[slavhew]

i reread this scene and i could just. picture it. so vividly.

[fangharel]

If you had any compassion for other writers you would take that post down. Your defensive "apology" is not enough to fix what you broke by making accusations like that with no hard evidence. So many new writers will be too scared to post their writing now because bitches like you will accuse them of using AI because they use the same adjectives more than once. Fuck you

i'm about to lose my sense of humour and my table manners.

no, "using the same adjectives more than once" is not a sign of ai and no one has fucking claimed that it is. picking my post apart limb for limb because you're timid and far too worried about what hypothetical accusers could accuse your hypothetical fic of is so fucking woe is me.

real writers had their work stolen by the bot that generated that fic. real artists had their art chewed up and shat out by that thing. do try to restrain yourselves from making this about you and focus instead on the real issue at hand.

i apologised for causing unnecessary anxiety and i meant it. i genuinely do believe that i should have worded that post better, and i do understand why someone with little knowledge of ai could read it and get scared. but the people who are attacking me (some even agreeing that the fic is ai and still attacking me because they don't like the way i wrote that post) in premature defence of their own fics are getting on my nerves fr.

what the lot of you seem to not understand is that no, weirdly paired adjectives aren't necessarily a sign of ai. repetitive structure at paragraph- and sentence level are not necessarily a sign of ai. "quick writing" is not necessarily a sign of ai.

but weirdly paired adjectives and repetitive structure at paragraph- and sentence-level and an insane output rate of content all added together within the same work? yes, that is a fucking sign of ai.

jesus christ, i did not think i'd have to spoon-feed you the point like this. my next apology post will be for overestimating your critical thinking skills.

and before you come at me: no, this post is not scolding the people i was apologising to in my last post. getting anxious is not something i blame anyone for, and as i said, the fault is mine. this post is @ the people who are turning that anxiety into a dull little butterknife that they're trying to stab me with

[today-it-is-this]

today, it is this — i watched romeo + juliet on broadway yesterday. yes the one starring kit connor and rachel zegler <3 i had written so many of my thoughts in my journal yesterday but i have more today so i thought i'd type them here. i'm so in awe of the whole ensemble, truly. and this applies to most theatre! day in, day out, they show up and consistently perform for a different group of people every single time. that must take so much energy, and for romeo + juliet specifically, they're on stage, running up and down the aisles, climbing up and down the ladders, jumping off the ledges, executing fights and choreographies... all while balancing delivering those shakesperean lines with absolute precision and emotion. two hours and 30 minutes almost everyday, sometimes even twice a day. it's mind-boggling to me! and the fact that they'll be doing this for five months total is even crazier. kit and rachel are amazing on stage and have such intimate chemistry. it's wild to me to watch these two, who've always been on film and tv, give live performances. it is such a privilege to watch them perform live (and SING live too!!!) with no cuts or edits. pure and raw performance. they draw you in and take your breath away. i remember feeling so mesmerized by kit when he was speaking to benvolio, really close to my side of the stage. the pure joy and relief in his eyes! his and rachel's soliloquies are so beautifully done! however, i do think that the rest of the ensemble really solidify the whole show for me. every single one of them is so ON it. and of course, sam gold's direction, sonya tayeh's choreo, and jack antonoff's music. this idea to make romeo + juliet for gen z was so off-putting to me that i thought it was gonna be dumb and corny, but sam gold did it so well. it makes so much sense. it's old english, yes, and the emotional beats are never taken lightly, but certain intricacies and mannerisms here and there feel so accurately rooted in gen z culture. it's unafraid to be hedonistic (lots of close make-out calls, grinding on each other, and vaping) and gen z humor was incorporated so seamlessly (especially from gian perez. so iconic I LOVE). i love that despite being limited to a small circle stage, they maximize and think outside the box to make it feel as BIG as possible, using all the aisles, under the stage, the overhead walkways. it's brilliant and just adds to the production value. i'm so happy to have my doubts proven wrong. this was such a blast, i hope everyone involved is so proud of themselves.

13/10/24

[todayisafridaynight]

[fluent-in-lesbianism]

I went to see my aunt today and she told me how my uncle saw a picture of his childhood best friend on a crime show earlier and apparently "Ritchie" (the friend) killed people in California

But bc I'm used to southern folk exaggeration stories I didn't think much of it until she said "the show said Ritchie started worshiping Satan in California" and THAT caught my attention, so I asked her for the friend's real name so I could look him up and calm as a fucking cucumber she goes, "Richard Ramirez... Do you know him?"

[crowned-ladybug]

Another design that had eluded me for years, this one undoubtedly one of the most important out of my FR dragons: my random progen, Aruna. I've gone through multiple unposted iterations with her over the years, never quite feeling any of them, until this one struck the other day

I'm not the biggest fan of this paper, but the Derwent Coloursoft pencils never disappoint. I missed drawing. This is the first full piece I've made since I moved in September and I'm happy that it exists

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Reminiscene

Hello everyone :3

You all know what time it is!! I think... It is time for another Dream drabble :3 @spotaus I know how much you like having dream be put through the ringer :33

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

Not much to say this time. You guys ready?

*-------------------------*

All things considered? Dream had been doing okay lately.

The worst part was that he wasn't sure if he felt good or bad about it.

At least Core didn't call him every 5 minutes anymore. Seems like the outcode child finally accepted that Dream had changed. That Dream had moved on.

Hah.

If only they knew how little he had actually moved on.

Dream stands in the greyed out forest. Waiting and listening. Not even a slight breeze. No sound.

A dead AU.

He used to blame Nightmare for that, for killing their AU.

Nowadays?

Dream figures it was just the end of their AU.

Dream leans against a tree and sighs. He tries to reach out but no sounds.

On his solo trips and, as Blue liked to call them, self discovery trips. Dream had learned he could speak to trees. Though maybe calling it speaking was a bit generous.

The trees didn't use words. Just sounds and whistles and whispers that could almost have been words. Dream had still been able to understand however. He just had to listen.

Seems like that was a theme for him. He just had to listen to be able to understand.

Even so, he takes a deep breath and leaves the forest and walks towards a familiar hill.

He kept returning here. Dream wants to say he doesn't know why and that it is just his home calling back for him.

He knows the truth.

He stops by the old cut down stump and focusses on the two familiar graves.

Seems like he hadn't been the only one visiting. There are once again fresh flowers. All beautifull yellows and orange coloured this time.

Dream smiles as he sits by the graves and gently touches the flowers. Part of his soul grieves at the two graves, once of which is meant for him. But another part of his soul sings in joy.

Because there is only one monster who could have made these graves and left these flowers.

Dream chuckles as he glances at the stump "Nighty came by... didn't he?"

No answer of course. Nim has died a long time ago. Even so Dream leans back against the stump as he keeps looking at the graves, most of his focus is on his own.

Dream keeps staring at the graves as he speaks "I know you won't answer me... with you being gone.. But... I want to at least think you are listening to me. Just this once."

Nim never listened to him. Neither to Nighty. They just had to listen to her.

Look at where that lead them.

Dream watches over the grey fields and the village in the distance. "Had you already decided near the start? Which one of us you would love and which one you wouldn't?"

No answer but Dream didn't mind. He watches the village in the distance. He can't help but wonder how often Nightmare would have had to do this alone. Keep watch alone.

"Or was it an in the moment decision? Had there been a moment were you held both of us and loved us both? Or had you decided the moment Nightmare formed that you would hate him?"

How often Dream would rush off, ignoring the quiet pleas to stay wiht Nightmare.

"I think you decided from the start. Why else would you give him the name you did? Say the only thing that matters about him is how he was different from me."

Would he have seen those angry people coming? With weapons? Had Nightmare been afraid? Wondering where Dream had been? Why Dream hadn't stopped them?

"It has to be the reason. Why else would you tell me to make friends with the villagers and help them? While telling Nightmare to stay put and send them away? You must have known. Known that by making me help them and by making Nightmare deny them that they would grow angry with him."

How often had Nightmare believed Dream had abandoned him? Only for him to end up mortally injured?

"You don't deserve the grave he made." Not that Dream thinks he truly deserves one himself. Even if he returns each time to see if new flowers are left for him.

Dream once again wonders if he should leave a message for the next time Nighty visits... Just something that he wishes to talk.

But then that ever present fear returns. What if it meant Nightmare wouldn't visit this place anymore instead of answering? What if he decided it was better to completely cut their past lose from him instead?

Dream hugs his legs as he tries to remember how colourful everything had been. How beautiful it had been.

But... Dream now realises that it had just been a prison of responsibility... For both him and his brother.

A golden cage... but still a cage.

Drema snorts as he nudges Nim's grave "Yet here you are! immortalised by a grave your son made you! You know. That same son you aparently never liekd or wanted? That son made you a grave and keeps said grave clean and brings you flowers. I bet you wouldn't even be thankful for it."

Dream knocks the stump with his fist "After all! How often did you tell me that I should focus on myself? How i should focus on making the villagers like me? How i shouldn't bother to wait for Nighty to return from the river?" Nim had been trying to seperate them from the start. A dream had never realised.

Dream sighs as he hugs his legs "We were children. Little babybones and you gave us adult responsibilities...." They should have just ran. the two of them should have just disappeared into the forest.

Nighty had asked him a few times if they couldn't just leave together.

Dream should have realised something was seriously wrong. Nighty had been the one who took their jobs so seriously.

But... Dream had just said he didn't want to leave his friends in the village behind.

"I wish i could turn back time... get a redo... I would stay by Nightmare's side. I would convince him that the job you gave us wasn't our job."

Dream wonders why Nightmare had been so set on doing their job so well... Dream has ideas but none of them are happy reasons.

"What... waht did you tell him? That made him desperate to do this job well?" Which lies had Nim told Nightmare in Dream's absence...?

Dream hugs his legs "Why did you never bother to tell me?" Dream grows angry as he huffs "Why did you never bother to tell me the same? Or tell me when Nighty was near? Or tell nighty when I was near? What was it you were trying so hard to protect?!"

A memory. from so long long ago. It had been raining and Nightmare hadn't been around. Ligthning had been flashing and Dream had been so afraid. His mother had help him within her branches. protected him. reassured him he would be safe. told him...

told him that Dream just had to protect himself. protect the hope he represented...

Dream laughs as he kicks the grave of his mother. glaring at it angerly "Was it worth it?! Was it worth killing one of your sons to protect the other?! Was it worth being the cause of all this pain and suffering we both had to go through?!" Dream shakes his skull as he gets up "Nevermind. You are never going to give me answers... and honestly. I am tired of you being a part of my life in anyway. I hope you rot whereever you are now." and he walks back to the forest.

It is silent and he prefers it like that. Things had been loud and hectic.

And well...

Maybe just maybe... He had done the same as Nightamre had done.

He gets to the forest lake and immediantly spots the tiny grave.

Well not grave. Dream shies away from that word. Nightmare is very much alive after all. It is more like a memorial... Wait those can be made for living people right? drema thinks so.

It was nice. It gave him a safe place to grieve and talk about everything. to imagine Nightmare across from him and listening to him. Like old times.

Dream figures that is why his own grave nad Nim's are still up. Dream knows Nightmare has to come by to take care of both graves and Dream snorts as he imagines Nightmare just telling the two graves in all the things they had been wrong in and all the stupid lies they believed.

For now he sits down and pulls out a few little knick-knacks he had collected form across the multiverse.

Dream keeps his voice quiet. Afraid someone will hear and come ruin it "Hey little brother..." he can't forget anymore that Nightmare had been his younger twin. Yet it had always been Nightmare who took care of him. "I am back..."

finally back.

Dream traces the stone and wood structure he had made. all still in perfect condition. With the AU being dead there was no more decay.

Dream organises everything he had left before sitting across from it "Sorry it took me a while. I had a.... I had an identity crisis." he snorts "I know. ironic isn't it? Everyone was always so quick to help and guide me to be what i should be yet it helped nothing. I still ended up unsure about who i was or what i had to do..."

he looks at the snowglobe he had put down "I was always jealous of how you just seemed to have it all figured out. How you were confident in what you did. Both before and after the apples. it felt like i was failing, and i guess in the end i did fail as everything i believed had been a lie..."

Dream sighs as he leans his cheek on his knee as he keeps looking at the structure "It is stupid... I had all the help in the world, and then even the multiverse. and yet still i didn't figure it out. I still didn't figure out i was a god of balance over positivity. I still didn't figure out i was doing more harm than good..."

Dream traces the grey grass under him "I was so against picking a domain Nighty... partly because i didn't want to pick something and get you stuck with something you would be hated for. Not again... but that wasn't all."

Dream hugs his legs and confesses what had been weighing him down "I was afraid of picking wrong. No, I am afraid of picking soemthing wrong. That i will pick something and once again not understand it... How did you do it Nightmare? How did you figure out what you were suposed to do? You didn't have help yet you understood...."

Drema chuckles and rubs his cheek "Not that it matters anymore. aparently i did already pick... Reaper confirmed it for me not too long ago... a god of progress. What the hell does that even mean? What does it mean i should do? I know i aparently helped blue by inspiring him to get out of that loop but still! That was on accident! what if i once again go to far?! what if i..." he hides his face "What if i mess up again?"

Guilt and Dream chuckles "Here i go again... whining about my trouble... I don't even know what my choice and pick do you... what is even the oposite of progress?! regression? Did i make it so you are stuck with like... reset stuff?!" he sighs as he rubs his cheek and rubs the tears away "This shit is so unfair... neither of us ever asked for this. We never wanted this and no one tried to help us before yet expected us to just know."

Dream stares at the memorial. no answers of course but he does feel better after speaking about his worries.

Dream chuckles as he pats the memorial gently "But.... that wasn't why i am here. As you know... today is a special day!" he turns to his pack and pulls out a bottle. it is champagne. and a few cupcakes. he lays the cupcakes between him and the structure before putting a candle on both cupcakes and lighting them.

Dream smiles as he opens the bottle and holds it up to the grave "It is our birthday!"

Dream rubs his neck "I know it must seem weird. after all! For the last i don't even know how many years i had so many people to celebrate with and so many powers and even before that it were the villagers but... well..."

his voice grows softer and softer "I miss when it was just us. After we collected berries and fresh fruits. when we would sneak off together and sit by the river to eat the fruits together and give each other small gifts..." he pulls a small wooden statue from his pack.

Dream looks at it and rubs the wood. He had spend weeks on it. an old familiar skill now unfamiliar and feeling alien in his hands. he managed to make a small owl at least. even if one eye was clearly bigger than the other and Dream now had more splinters in his hands then ever before, even more than he first started.

He places it carefully in front of the memorial "I know it... it isn't my best work... I am going to be honest, it is porbably my worst..." he just hadn't had time to try again. He tried so many times but none of them have looked right and as time went by it just kept getting worse and suddenly he didn't have time anymore.

Dream chuckles "It sucks that i.... i didn't keep up with the hobby... I hope you kept reading at least... that you had the chance to keep reading... your picture and castle seemed to reinforce this at least... there were so many books in there! and the picture of you reading..." he rubs his arm as he keeps sitting right there "I am sorry... that you felt like he had to leave and run from your home... again..." he glances down adn chuckles "look at me... rambling... lets blow out the candles okay? I will blow out both. Don't forget to make a wish."

Drema leans down and blows out the candles on both cupcakes before putting his hands together and making his wish.

A silent whisper in his mind.

please.

please.

Just give him the chance to meet Nightmare again.

To talk to him one more time.

If only once to tell him he is sorry and that Dream loves him.

Dream opens his sockets and smiles at the grave, ignoring the tears that are leaving his sockets "Did you make a wish nightmare? Remember. No telling! otherwise it wont come true!"

Dream takes the two cupcakes and eats both before opening the champagne bottle and drinking straight from it. He isn't a fan of stuff like this but champagne is suposed to be for celebrations and well... celebrating himself and his twin seems like a good reason.

He spends his afternoon like that. just being in his old AU thinking back.

Fitting. a god of progress... stuck thinking about the past.

Dream chuckles and sighs "Blue said it is fine you know? To take time and get used to everything... I just hope... that you are doing the same... taking your time to rest after everything. I can only imagine how exhausting it would ahve been to have to do everything you did while everyone was actively working against you..." he smiles up "Good news for that though! I managed to visit pretty much everyone who knew either of us personally or about us! And i managed to explain the situation! so.. hopefully... whever you are or are planning on going, people will let you be and do your thing..."

Dream smiles at the memorial with the raised bottle "to us. to the future... and... I miss you... I am sorry i didn't make it obvious how much you mean to me..."

That had to be the reason why Nightmare hadn't searched him out yet... because he beleived that Dream hated him.

And that is on Dream. On dream for not doing a good job as brother and making it obvious that he loved his twin.

Dream hums as he leans against the stone structure "I love you nighty. And I promise you, I will make it up to you once we meet again."

Maybe that is why he is the god of progress. Because he is willing to move forwards and make it up. progress towards a new future.

Dream blinks and laughs "I bet you would have heard my title and figured it out immediantly." he giggles as he leans against the stone "Happy birthday Nightmare."

Happy birthday to me.

Dream sips the expensive bottle and enjoys the peace and silence.

*-------------------------*

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

[houseswife]

house’s cane is grotesquely underutilised sexual style in fanfics considering that 1) it’s a long phallic object that he is constantly handling and 2) he straight up joked about fucking wilson with it that one time

[today-it-is-this]

today, it is this — i saw guadagnino's queer for the third time today and even though i'd already read up on this film so much, it still made so many wheels in my head turn. i read an analysis written by barry levitt for time that i really liked, here are some excerpts:

"The dollhouse represents Lee’s past, a seedy encounter that happened before he first fell for Eugene. Here, Lee’s sadness manifests in a desire to revisit the past, a time before he fell for Eugene. But he doesn’t wish to erase the memory of Eugene; instead, placing himself in the dollhouse affords him the chance to try again—perhaps if he wasn’t so detestable this time around, Eugene wouldn’t declare he isn’t queer, and he’d stay with Lee."

"While Eugene’s symbol (the centipede) is moving ahead, Lee’s (the snake) is consuming itself, doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again. Eugene is able to carry on after his romance with Lee, while Lee is confined to a life of falling into the same miserable cycles of loneliness and addiction, a feeling manifested by the snake shedding a hopeless tear. Eugene can walk away from Lee—and from queerness—but Lee cannot escape who he is, nor the repressive society he lives in, and it’s bound to eat him alive."

"One night in their Mexico City apartment, [Burroughs and Vollmer] engaged in a drunken game of William Tell, in which he tried to shoot a glass of gin off her head. Instead, he shot her in the forehead, killing her. (He was later convicted in absentia.) It’s an important detail that gives Lee’s smile in the film a rather sinister bent; Lee smiles momentarily because he’s freed of the love that’s emotionally paralyzed him for years, and the real-world tie suggests that Burroughs was pleased to be free of a heterosexual marriage that held him back from his homosexuality. Still, as the wave of grief post-smile confirms, both have killed the person they love, even if only figuratively in Lee’s case."

"Though there was no hope for Lee, the film's final seconds—a haze of blues, purples, and yellows—offer something more optimistic. The dancing streaks of color give the impression of glowing embers, lighting a new desire. Queer is a film deeply invested in how lonely it can feel to be queer, and what we put ourselves and our bodies through in an attempt to escape from that gnawing loneliness. Perhaps, in these final moments, these sparks emerging from Lee remind us that one day, for future generations of queer people, light will spring from darkness, and the loneliness might not be so all-consuming anymore."

8/12/24

[wolfwarrior142]

My guy don't describe the random lost scientist guy that way to Rayla of all people. That literally just describes Callum.

[amphibianaday]

Could you draw a frog or axolotl that is a vapire please?

day 1255