When Izzy first walked out I was worried that he would be made into a joke that the crew would laugh at
but then he started singing and the dancing began and I realized that he wasn’t meant to be a joke at all. This is the most open and happy we’ve ever seen Izzy and the show treated it that way. Not mocking him but instead celebrating this moment.
When we talk about queer representation it’s usually just focused on queer relationships, but what I love about this episode is it shows other sides of being queer. That moment where Izzy saw Wee John doing his makeup and had a realization that he wanted that too? That is what being queer means to me. The crew singing along and cheering for him? That is what being apart of the queer community means to me.
What i love about this show is that it shows queer joy, not in a sanitized way, but in away that is messy, beautiful, and without any mockery or shame.
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good games i've played on itchio lately:
please tell me you love me - chat with your guild members for the last time before the game's servers are shut down
GIRLKILLER (covet) - there is a girl who looks like you, and today you're going to kill her
cover me in leaves - stuck in your small hometown, you get your first tattoo. and then a few more, and more, and more
don't rock the boat - play through the different perspectives of a women's crew team as they are stalked by something in the water
GUTLESS - you are the captain of a deep sea vessel. your mission doesn't go well
so, about last night... - you wake up sick and weirdly hungry after hooking up with someone at a party. you spend the next night trying to find her.
close the window, my love - short bitsy poem about closing the window. sound on! this creator has a lot of short bitsy works i recommend.
there is a beautiful star - just a short, cute side scroller. lots of short, lighthearted games from them, definitely recommend for a mood booster.
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I. HATE. IN-TEXT. CITATIONS.
Not just when I'm writing a paper, but when I'm READING a textbook it looks SO messy (Rick-Astley, 1969, p. 420) and it's SO distracting, (Morbius, 2022) and SO disruptive (Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, & Rudolph, 1964.) to my reading and (Bird, Grouch, Monster, & Monster, 1997 ) learning process. And why are some of them SO FUCKING (According, 2007; To & All, 1991; Known, Laws, & Of, 2378; Aviation, 57 B.C.E.) LONG???
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Actual Phone Conversation I Had With A Girl Absolutely Going Through It This Morning:
me very quickly: hi this is dylan from x. how are you today? is now a good time to talk?
girl on the phone: what? oh you know! it's just work, work, work.
me: haha yeah! Just another busy Monday :)
girl on the phone i have known for exactly 11 seconds: sometimes i wish it would just stop. it's relentless. and it's every week! how many mondays can someone go through?
me trying to do my job: ha ha i know right? so I'm calling--
girl on the phone i have known for exactly 16 seconds: i'm so tired. i'm soooooo tired. shelby kept me up all night again. she will not get over keegan. they keep calling each other just to yell i swear to god.
me: only 4 days till the weekend and some sleep! :D
girl: yeah. but she's sleeping with me. at my house. didn't he tell you? who is going to get the dog? or the fucking 300 dollar blender I got them?
me: unfortunately no! so i would love to know more but the reason i'm calling is to get you scheduled for x job interview are you still interested?
girl whispering: what?
me awkwardly: it's...i'm dylan. from x. the x job you applied for. we would like to interview you for it.
girl: oh my god. no. oh my - I am so sorry. I thought you were my friend--I cannot believe--I told you work was relentless. I don't really mean that! I talked about blenders!
me: no, no I totally get it. It can be. But that's why you're interviewing for somewhere better! Tell Shelby to apply too! Do you have any availability on Thursday?
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you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.
you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.
he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.
a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.
he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.
you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.
people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.
wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.
also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.
he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."
you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.
"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."
he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.
you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.
is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?
you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.
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shouto accidentally gets drunk while out with you and some other friends and he's sitting there in the heat of the bar, watching you smile bright and laugh wholeheartedly with your hair a little messy and your eyeliner smudged a bit—and he gets suddenly and completely overwhelmed with the desire to kiss you.
which is exactly what he does when you manage to get him home. it's kind of awkward because he doesn't kiss many people and he's also drunk and gangly and looming over you, but you let him crowd you against his front door until the both of you nearly run out of breath.
and you push him away gently with a quiet laugh, telling him, "okay, slow your roll, loverboy. how about we do this when you're sober, huh?" because you're not sure if he means it and you don't want to get your hopes up for something he won't even remember tomorrow.
but he absolutely does remember it, and now he can't look at you without feeling that unfamiliar white-hot strike of desire lighting up his body.
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