What on earth is a 'corset apologist'? Like, because you acknowledge corsets were perfectly functional supportive undergarments, you're an agent of the patriarchy??
Yep, that's it exactly.
As with all the other red flags in the post, it's not a guaranteed t*rf signal. I've known plenty of non-t*rfs who expressed similar views (including the person who claimed Abby Cox was "looking down her perfectly powdered nose" at Mary Wollstonecraft for daring to [checks notes] point out that Wollstonecraft was rather judgmental about her fellow women's interest in dress). But...it's definitely a "check blog for t*rf leanings" tip-off for me.
And yes, to clarify: some people (t*rfs or otherwise) think female dress history researchers/historical costumers/vintage fashion enthusiasts who don't believe that corsets were The Root of All Evil when commonly worn are just brainwashed patriarchal shills and we can't possibly know what we're talking about.
Because that's way easier than thinking critically about the history you've been taught, and not vaguely misogynistic at all! </s>
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now that im finished with this gay fates update i figured i’d show off the other modding project i’ve been working on, which is a dwarf fortress mod to add a lot of stock fantasy creatures i was disappointed weren’t in the game (or any other mods)
This isn’t all of them, but the sprites im most happy with
cockatrice male and female (megabeast, the snake head on the tail injects a venom that paralyzes their foes)
centaur male and female (sentient and similar to animal people)
peryton
various different ent caste
mogalls (a la fire emblem, shadows of velentia’s design specifically)
quetzalcoatl
wurm (megabeast, based on the wurm design from dungeon meshi)
wyverns (come in 4 different colors!)
phoenix (megabeast, skin made of stone and blood made of magma)
griffon and hippogriff (hippogriff are common domestics)
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These tags by @clonecumber on this post about Jedi reminded me of something about the concept of “attachment” in Buddhism that might be interesting and helpful for thinking about it in Star Wars, especially with regard to Anakin.
So, for the Buddhist concept, the word that’s being translated in English as “attachment” is upadana. The literal meaning of upadana in the Pali language is “fuel,” but in an abstract sense you’ll see it translated as “clinging” or “grasping.”
Buddhism says that there’s a set of factors that goes into how a person experiences and interacts with the world, or part of how they construct their identity and the idea of ‘self.’ In Pali this is kandha and translated with words like “aggregate” or “bundle,” coming from the sense of a bundle of stems/branches or the trunk as the union/aggregate of all branches of a tree.
There are five of these aggregates/kandhas. One kind of kandha is physical, sensual things. If you think of material wealth as a bundle of branches, being greedy and clinging to/grasping for it is like pouring gasoline over the wood and throwing down a match, creating fire (suffering) when you steal from people, exploit them, etc. Each factor/kandha is something that upadana--clinging or attachment--is directed towards, and eliminating attachment/clinging/upadana is part of how you can stop creating suffering.
Material things are the only purely physical kandha. The others include emotions (where fear gets a special mention), states of mind, and even things like how you view yourself and what you believe about the world. When Yoda talks about how fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering, he’s echoing the idea that fear of loss and change in a world where the nature of things is to constantly change is what spurs people to cling to things, to form attachments.
When Anakin’s mom is kidnapped and beaten by Tuskens, he’s ultimately unable to save her and must confront a very sharp, painful loss. His worst fear from his nightmare has been realized. Instead of reaching out and trying to process/deal with his grief and pain in a healthy way, he lets anger get the better of him and he massacres all the Tuskens in the encampment. All he’s done is spread suffering and murder. This does nothing to help his mother, the Lars family, or victims of literally any party of ongoing land/water disputes on Tatooine. Everything that happened here was purely about Anakin and his impulse to take revenge, jumping down the fear->anger->hate->suffering train like a slip-n-slide.
Anakin routinely has a really hard time undercutting his own upadana, his grasping at and attachment to things that must and will change, must pass. Whenever Obi-wan tells him to “be mindful of [his] feelings,” he doesn’t mean that Anakin just needs to check himself and do some introspection whenever he’s angry or feeling a negative emotion. He’s reminding Anakin that he needs to do some consideration and introspection for all feelings, negative and positive, to think about the relationship between kandhas and upadana.
Anakin doesn’t need to learn that anger and hate are bad. He needs to learn that even positive things like love can be the objects of attachment/upadana, and that’s the clinging demonstrated in his inability to accept death and loss--however shocking and painful--as a natural process, setting him down Yoda’s cycle of fear, anger, hate, and suffering, unable to walk way.
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Redemptive (?) Violence in Two Scorsese Films: Goncharov (1973) and Silence (2016)
Tons has been written about the parallels between Goncharov and Scorsese's other mafia movies. But thematically, i wonder if we're not collectively missing something by considering its similarities to Scorsese's definitively non-mafia masterpiece, Silence (2016).
On the surface, these two movies don't seem to have a lot in common. Goncharov is--well, you know the plot. Silence (2016), on the other hand, is a historical drama about a persecuted Christian community in feudal Japan. And man, is it brutal. More brutal then all of Scorsese's mafia films combined. (I'm not joking here. After the initial scenes, I could not continue watching this film in increments longer than 5 minutes. It's a good film--a great film--but I absolutely do not recommend watching it to anyone.)
Silence, for those who aren't familiar, follows a pair of Portuguese Jesuit priests trying to shepherd their Japanese parish through government persecution. It's hard to watch because it's just one brutal martyrdom after martyrdom in this small community.
But unlike with cinematic narratives of Joan of Arc or even of the crucifixion of Christ himself, nothing good seems to come out of this sacrificial violence. We see people being burned alive, being crucified, being humiliated and tortured and killed in a myriad of ways--and there is no redemption in it. The martyrs don't express unalloyed joy in the face of their suffering. The musical score never wells up to ensure us that, yes, this pain and death was worth it.
It's just grim and awful and meaningless.
It's so bad that the Portuguese Jesuit missionary who serves as a priest in the community starts begging the believers to deny Christ publicly. They can believe it in their hearts, in the safety of their homes and village, but if anyone asks, they are not Christian. He assures them God will forgive them, because he cannot imagine this meaningless slaughter is what God wants.
Ultimately, Christians in the audience are prompted to wonder if even the crucifixion of Christ was worth it, if it was truly redemptive, or if it was just as grim and bleak and purposeless as every death portrayed in the film.
When I rewatch Goncharov, I see a young Scorsese struggling with the same themes. Sure, the characters in the film are terrible people, nothing like the good-hearted Japanese peasants portrayed in Silence. But Scorsese plays with the same ideas around redemptive violence. In Christianity, the death of martyrs is supposed to be redemptive by instructing and giving hope to other Christians. In Goncharov, we expect the deaths of Ice Pick Joe and Bruno and all those other horrible people to be redemptive in the sense that they are getting their just desserts, and by sacrificing them on the altar of death, we *should* be saving countless lives (because they can no longer kill).
But in Goncharov, these deaths are just as meaningless as the ones in Silence. Nothing good comes out of these people dying; the slaughter continues unabated. If anything, the pace increases, and the characters we thought could be redeemed fall further and further into hopelessness and despair.
The problem with Goncharov, and Scorsese's other mafia movies, is that the thrill of living underground, of having an alternate society, of pursuing riches and power at the expense of good--all those things seduce the viewer into romanticizing the struggles the characters go through. Scorsese's point might be that the violence is pointless and better avoided, but the audience is hesitant to adopt the same view.
So in a very real sense, Silence is a continuation of what Scorsese was trying to do with Goncharov. 40-plus years on in his career, though, Scorsese has learned to strip away every vestige of romanticism to ensure he gets his point across. No one is rich, no one is sexy. No one is engaged in a decades-long quest for revenge. No one is trying to set things right, to correct things, to make things even.
In Silence, violence is stripped down to its true essentials. It is cruel. It is unjust. It offers no hope.
These are also the things that Goncharov communicates. But they are communicated in a more palatable form, in a film you don't have to pause every 5 minutes just to get through, in a narrative where you can distract yourself with glamor and romance and what-ifs.
Look, I'm not condemning Goncharov fans for enjoying those things about the movie. Scorsese wanted you to enjoy them. He put them in there so you could actually get through the movie and receive its message at the end.
There's a risk that you won't get the message. But there's also a risk that you won't get the message in Silence, because chances are you're going to stop watching it before it's even finished.
And carrying out that narrative in both ways--in one version that is glamorized and easy to swallow, in another that is sparse and almost impossible to bear-- that's its own kind of genius.
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So, I was on Amazon, looking up books written by this guy I just saw in a Ted talk. Then I happened to notice a couple of books about bats.
As a general rule, I adore bats and have since I stayed at camp at around age 5 and saw this little, tiny bat. It was hanging upside down from the huge stone fireplace.
The lady reading the stories that evening just calmly pointed it out to us all and I was amazed by how tiny and cute it looked. I thought it was a baby but I'm sure it wasn't. The adults are incredibly small here.
To add to my bat experiences, my dad would catch and release them if they got inside. He'd wear gloves in case they bit him, but he'd show them to me and let me gently pet the soft fur on their backs.
I consider myself lucky that I was never around people who were scared of them because it would be sad if even more people feared these little dudes. (My daughter likes them too, lol)
So, back to why I'm posting this screenshot.
After seeing these bat books, I, of course thought about Twisted Wonderland's resident bat, Lillia van Rouge . So, having Lillia already on my mind, the next book I see has a dragon! Malleus!!!!
(omg Malleus. I am SO, SO sorry!) Nope! Once my brain actually engaged I realized it was a dino--a T Rex to be more precise. 😂🤣😂😭😭
Despite being all alone, I was simultaneously embarrassed, ashamed, and secretly amused.
Because of course I wouldn't want to let the imaginary dragon prince find out that mistaking him for a freaking T Rex was actually pretty hilarious. 🙄😂
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a little rant
(tw for (fictional) parental abuse mention)
I think, (book) Faramir can still have daddy issues WITHOUT (book) Denethor having been an abusive father. Book Denethor wasn't a terrible person. A Professional Pessimist by the end, maybe, and certainly very flawed, and definitely unhealthfully grieving his other son, and made some, uh, mistakes at the end there, but I personally wouldn't go so far as to say he was abusive like PJ's films portrayed him.
However!! This doesn't mean portraying Faramir has having some daddy issues in fanworks is anti-book-denethor. How many of us have daddy issues without having had abusive father figures?? Like, the two aren't mutually exclusive. You can have a loving relationship with your parent figure and it not be perfect and not *entirely* healthy in every way and you can still struggle with it.
idk what the point of this post was except I think PJ exaggerated Denethor into being too abusive but I also think it's okay for fans (especially fans WITH their own "daddy issues" or similar), to resonate with Faramir having "Daddy Issues" and maybe/probably having worries about being a father himself or whatever.
I guess what I'm saying is these things are not entirely black and white and you don't need to have been abused to have some issues with your parents? You can truly love your parent and vice versa but recognize that not all things are perfect and could have been better etc
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