Sometimes I enter Ao3 and see that almost all the fanfics are M/M and I think "That's weird. I don't even like boys". But I guess I like the story of two dumbasses pining on eachother for a long time until they realise it.
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Won’t you stay with me
F̴̢̖̓̀̉͒̽̈́͜͠Ơ̶̘̳̖̺͉͓͓͂̍͗̔R̸̢̺̥̠͔̱̭͉͓̤̪̰̳͗̋̈E̶̡̛̞͇̜̲̘̖͇̻͍̘͍̓̄̍̕͘V̴̢͙̫̟͚̜̀̒̄͜͠Ë̷̡̫͙̰̜̳͕͕̈́̈́́͗͋̈͊̄̓̊̋͑ͅR̴̫̜̳̺̗͖̈́?̵͖͊̏͐̊̔̃̕̕
Nolan belongs to @the-star-tsukasa-tenma ! Give them some love :)
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I love how on Tumblr, "media literacy" has become "Um, just because someone writes about this doesn't mean they're endorsing this. I hate all these media puritans ruining everything."
I'm sad to inform you that knowing when and whether an author is endorsing something, implying something, saying something, is also part of media literacy. Knowing when they are doing this and when they're not is part of media literacy. Assuming that no author has ever endorsed a bad thing is how you fall for proper gander. It's not media literacy to always assume that nobody ever has agreed with the morally reprehensible ideas in their work.
Sometimes, authors are endorsing something, and you need to be aware when that happens, and you also need to be aware when you're doing it as an author. All media isn't horny dubcon fanfic where you and the author know it's problematic IRL but you get off to it in the privacy of your brain. Sometimes very smart people can convince you of something that'll hurt others in the real world. Sometimes very dumb people will romanticize something without realizing they're doing it and you'll be caught up in it without realizing that you are.
Being aware of this is also media literacy. Being aware of the narrative tools used to affect your thinking is media literacy. Deciding on your own whether you agree with an author or not is media literacy. Enjoying characters doing bad things and allowing authors to create flawed or cruel characters for the sake of a story is perfectly fine, but it is not the same as being media literate. Being smug about how you never think an author has bad intentions tells me you're edgy, not that you're media literate. You can't use one rule to apply to all media. That's not how media literacy works. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Aheem heem. Anyway.
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Speaking as someone who's been outed many, many times, by both "allies" and homo/transphobes, some of yall are way too comfortable sharing other peoples' queer identities.
"But what if I'm trying to be funny?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if I'm an ally?" Doesn't matter
"But what if the person I'm talking to is an ally?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if I'm queer?" Doesn't matter
"But what if the person I'm talking to is queer?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if the person I'm talking about is a stranger?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if it's really obvious?" First of all, ew. Second of all, Doesn't matter.
"But what if they didn't come out to me, I just figured it out on my own?" Doesn't matter.
"But what if they're getting misgendered?" It's just as easy to say 'actually she's a girl' as it is to say 'actually she's transgender and uses she/her'. If that person is pretransition, it's also easy to just bite your tongue and not say anything.
Unless that person has explicitly given you permission to share that information, you DON'T. No matter how certain you are that everyone is accepting, no matter how noble your intentions, it's not your information to share. Getting clocked sucks, getting outed sucks, and they're both an invasion of privacy no matter who's doing it.
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So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.
Stay with me.
We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.
I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.
It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.
(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)
Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.
My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.
When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.
We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.
Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.
The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.
I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.
Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE--”
Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.
But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.
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in honor of the nimona movie (it’s so good i’m gonna scream and cry for the next million years) i must share my favorite nimona art ever
drawn by ND stevenson ofc and posted on twitter a few years ago i believe
do i even have to SAY anything? the shark, it’s not rocket surgery, baby nimona, the DOMESTICITY of it all im gonna explode
UPDATE!!!! GAY DADS AU THREAD https://twitter.com/gingerhazing/status/1676058949504892928?s=46
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