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bread-tab · 1 year

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"stop making [media] your whole personality"

ah... okay. yes. so.

first off:

there's this neurodivergent thing, where you use an interest as a filter for processing the world.

for some people that is called a "special interest," for others with different needs it is more of a "hyperfixation;" there are far more variations than i (or the field of psychology) know how to describe now. if you want to understand the difference there are people who can explain those variations better than me. but i can tell you what it feels like.

you discover something.

it doesn't matter what it is; you find something that speaks to you, something you can connect to, and it becomes a bubble of safe habitat from which you can rest from and explore and connect to all the other parts of this strange chaotic world.

a source of joy. a source of illumination.

it's like you're a person who has lived all their life in dark caves and you find something that glows.

these interests can be anything.

(literally anything; i personally derive meanings that you could never imagine from ✨ drainage ditches. ✨)

but very often, they are stories. tv shows, books, movies, comics, songs, podcasts, minecraft improv streams, cartoons, web serials, whatever

these things are:

tangible. you can hold them in your hands, replay them, turn on the subtitles, take screenshots, read the sheet music

and yet

real. they form a genuine connection from your (isolated, untranslatable) internal world to other (formerly unknowable) people and the rest of the universe

they create meaningfulness

and they exist because humans find these incredibly effective soul-deep ways of communicating to one another.

now, appreciating stories, that's not a neurodivergent thing. that's a human thing.

the point of relevance here is that experiencing an extreme love for stories is a neurodivergent thing.

it's a very common neurodivergent trait which often gets mocked, portrayed as childish, and used as a pretext for infantilization and bullying.

(and it is also a trait of young people in general, to take stories very seriously in a way that looks silly to adults, and that is something that many people (regardless of age) try to bully out of each other.

what good is that doing anyone?)

"stop making [x] your whole personality"

listen, you. get down off that goddamn embankment and climb down into this ditch with me. dip your toes in this oily water. watch the stars and city lights ripple into constellations you've never seen

now look me in the eye

you need to understand that no matter what lowbrow, cringey, problematic or otherwise not-to-your-tastes drivel you might be complaining about today,

you are talking about the phenomenon of creativity

you are talking about a transcendent catalyst of human emotion

and yes that includes the overmilked disney franchises, it includes the formulaic shippy fanfictions, it includes whatever brightly-colored cartoon this website is obsessed with this year (and will be having incredibly dramatic meltdowns over next year), it includes the cheesy action movies and the fanservicey anime and the badly-designed video games and the milquetoast tiktok "literature", it includes the indistinguishable scribbles of some random five-year-old and/or famous fine artist and/or precocious elephant

i get it. you care about real life and touching grass and shit. you have taste. just take the stilts off your horse for a second, okay?

i know you're probably sick of "let people like things" discourse

i would just like for you to stop for a second and take a deep breath, and let the stench of whatever is in this mud puddle wash over you (yeah i know, ew, but you'll be fine) and consider

what is so bad about having a cringey personality, anyway?

and maybe you will think better of making "stop making [some silly moment in the universe] your personality" into your personality and maybe you will come off as a little bit less of a snob/ableist/ass and maybe you will have a slightly better outlook on life among humans.

that's all. yeah you can get out of the gutter now. thank you for coming to my ted talk—

ooh wait, look, a bottle cap

#''let people like things'' is not enough #let people find joy in the mundane stupid shit of life goddamn you #rant #*waves hands inarticulately* your sprouts!#protect your sprouts #idk if i'm making sense #i failed literature 101 three times for this #fuck it #maybe this is the semester i go back and pass that goddamn class #long post #actuallyautistic #adhd feels #neurodivergent breadtab #ableism #and that thing i don't know what to call it #where the intellectuals and the anti-intellectuals are fighting and it makes my head hurt because they're both missing part of the picture #and for me that part whatever it is it's foundational #sleep deprived #i have more to say about drainage btw #unfortunately it's more of a ''rotating in my mind'' kind of interest so it might not #make sense #per se #however i could probably get more poetic about this considering the thing I'm rotating in my mind is the sum and substance of how #humanity intersects with the water cycle of the entire earth #in summary: woder

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1863-project · 9 months

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Okay, was thinking about it and I remembered a lot of you were very young or not even alive for this, so:

When 9/11 happened I was 12 and had just started 7th grade. I grew up in a suburb of New York City. 12 people from my town died, including a firefighter whose son was in my younger brother's CCD group.

Things changed SO fast. Practically overnight. Suddenly, we were all hypervigilant, and after the immediate response of assistance from around the world, the prejudice was oozing from nearly everywhere. In northern New Jersey, we had and still have a large west (Middle East) and south Asian population. They were hit the hardest.

People freaked out just because a mosque was going to be built in lower Manhattan within several blocks of Ground Zero at one point. It was ridiculous and the Islamophobia was so fucking awful and infuriating. It still is. It didn't go away. For the most part, New Yorkers are usually good to each other because there's literally someone from everywhere here, but this was legitimately terrifying. People would even attack Sikhs - who weren't Muslim, Sikhism is its own thing - because they saw the turbans and made a decision based on racism (i.e. bin Laden had a turban so these people must be like him).

The "patriotism" was miserable. "Freedom fries" happened because people were mad that France didn't want to go into Iraq with Bush in 2003. We all thought it was stupid then too.

The Chicks (formerly known as the Dixie Chicks) got blackballed because they came out against said war. They were one of the biggest country acts in the world at the time. In general, country music went through a massive tonal shift post-9/11 and became far more "patriotic" and conservative. Johnny Cash wouldn't have recognized it.

The Flash movies that inevitably popped up satirizing politics were...something. You can find most of them archived on YouTube these days. But that was how the internet tended to cope back then.

The shift from happiness to paranoia was so fucking fast. I went from a world where my biggest concern was pre-ordering the GameCube to being worried about politics and death all the time. All the news showed was footage of people dying for weeks. Politicians started using the footage in commercials. You just had to keep reliving the trauma of it over and over again. I stopped watching the news.

It was, looking back on it, a huge galvanizing point for the American right. Politicians started using 9/11 to justify so many things. This was where I began to see as a young teenager that you could use people's prejudices to get a grip on power and get what you wanted. I didn't like it.

People started drawing memorial art almost immediately. The phenomenon of memorial art being done decades later with cartoon characters still persists on deviantART to this day, but when it started, it was mostly people doing vent art because it's really upsetting to be a kid and see death on that scale on the news.

It took me 15 years to go back to the site after 9/11. I'd been as a kid in 1997 and I went up in the South Tower with my family. I didn't set foot there again until 2016, 15 years after the attacks. I found the name of the firefighter whose son was in my brother's CCD class. It was surreal.

This chapter of American history arguably closed for many people in 2011, when bin Laden was killed in a raid. I remember watching the Mets play the Phillies that night. Daniel Murphy, who I'd named a cat after two years earlier, was at bat, and suddenly the crowd started chanting "USA." I used my Blackberry to check the news and that was how I found out. I was a senior in college, about to graduate. I don't even remember how I felt, just that the way I found out was so fucking weird.

It was a really stressful, bizarre climate to grow up in. In the time between my 12th and my 22nd birthday, I saw my entire world get turned upside down overnight, massive waves of prejudice, unnecessary wars that killed even more innocent people, literal war crimes (tw: rape, murder, prisoner torture, every other bad thing you can think of under the sun), and the rise of false patriotism and nationalism, which you can still see the right wing harnessing today.

If you're going to mock something here, mock the false patriotism. Mock "Freedom Fries." Mock George W. Bush. Just...don't mock the actual moments where people died. Too many innocent people died from the attacks themselves, the Islamophobia afterwards, and the wars that followed. That shit isn't funny.

#history

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the-ninja-legacy-whip · 7 months

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*pops my very short head* Umm trick or Treat? (Sorry we don’t celebrate Halloween here so I’m unfamiliar with the customs)

*pats your head* You're doing perfect, sweetie

Trick or Treat! Fic Edition!

You get...another deleted scene, once again from the pilots/Book 1! Honestly looking back like this has made me find a lot of hidden old stuff! And I definitely see why I hung onto so much of it, even if it's all obsolete now x)

Kai remembers the one and only ‘high school party’ he’s ever been to. It wasn’t anything legendary that would be referenced for future generations to come, but it had been a party. A rather tame one at that: parental supervision was present, there wasn’t any questionable ingredients in the refreshments, the music was mainstream…and nothing happened that made it stand out, other than the crowd of his hyped fellow freshmen. Kai had been suffocated by how many people were present. Before, he hadn’t been sure of how many people could be packed into a single backyard, but that day he learned that the number could push above the sixty range. People he’d only seen behind textbooks and locker doors were now dressed in wild colors and dancing like the world was ending. It was a bizarre phenomenon to be sure. But, even with the "friends" Kai had at the time, he really hadn’t been able to cut himself a place in the scene. None of the songs sparked the need to dance, the food was just okay (not that it stopped him from discretely packing a doggie bag or two for Nya) and he hadn’t really had any memories of it, other than the fact that it had happened. He’d only gone for the experience, and it hadn’t been one he was eager to repeat. Tonight’s party is a different story. There’s not a sea of near-strangers dancing on a makeshift dance floor, only three other idiots he’d looked death in the eye with on multiple occasions. There’s no cheap DJ, just Cole tapping a tune on the bongos Jay constructed out of bark and leaves. There’s no table full of average food along the wall, just some of Zane’s finest scrounged around from whatever they could find in the woods. There's barely any semblance of a celebration at all. But Jay's already jiving to the mockery of music, holding out one hand in a quiet invitation to have Kai join along— And somehow, this makeshift shindig is already so much more fun than the one Kai barely remembers.

#ninjago #the lego ninjago movie #tlnm #legacyverse #the ninja legacy whip #kai smith #cole brookstone #jay walker #zane julien #book 1 #fic tag #fics of mine #works of mine

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abiiors · 2 months

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Hiya,

I'm doing a presentation for my degree on audience theory in relation to the at their very best tour, it's due tomorrow so I know I've left this quite late 🥲

According to my lecturer, one question I need to develop a bit further for my argument is how a 1975 fan would 'identify' themselves and what qualities they might share?

Do you have any answers you could provide for this? Also if anyone else reading would like to share I'll take as many answers as I can get 😭😭

No pressure to answer, I'm aware I'm springing this on you haha

Also, any general reviews of at their very best (specifically the recorded show at madison Square garden) are welcome

Thanks vee!! :)

if anyone else wants to answer this too pls send @partoftheband04 an ask :)

hello!!

okay so about identifying as a fan -- out of all the fandoms i've been in, i've specifically seen this weird phenomenon for the 1975 which is that there's no "casual fan". you either hate the band/matty/their music or you're absolutely obsessed. there's no middle ground, which i genuinely can't say about a lot of other things.

i'd say there's no specific definition for a fan because it can't just be a certain group of people who, for eg, have seen them live, have collectible items, have met the members, have been in the fandom for a certain number of years etc etc. i'd rather describe it as someone who understands the context behind the music and understands the songs as opposed to just listening to them.

a good example would be "it's not living (if it's not with you)" because without the context it can be (and has been) mistaken for a love song. a lot of their songs have been mistaken for love songs when they're in fact about addiction/drugs etc. because matty's and the band's personal life drives their music so so much, i'd say a fan would be someone who has a good grasp of matty as a person (and i'm mostly saying matty here because he is essentially the spokesman for the band)

as for what i've seen in common amongst all the fans is the fact that majority of us seem to be a part of the queer community, majority of us seem to be politically aware and opinionated because the band's music is politically aware and opinionated. and like i know it's a joke at this point that you have to be mentally ill to be a fan of the 1975 but i think it's true because matty has been so open and honest about his own struggles with mental health. that's what makes a lot of people be comfortable about being open about their struggles too.

i can't really give you a specific review of the atvb show at the moment because it's been a while since i watched it :( and with watching satvb so much for the past few months all i can think about is how much the band has improved since their msg performance for atvb.

but yeah, i really hope this helps!!

#✉️#the 1975

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pacifymebby · 9 months

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Do you have any fave LGBTQ+ literature, tv, movies, content creators?

Okay so I'm still trying really hard to find queer books that I like because beyond Allen Ginsburg in college we weren't taught any LGBTQ+ authors/poets (except Carol Ann Duffy but the only thing I'd recommend about her work is to stay away because I hate it haha)(I probably hate it because of school tbh, sorry Carol) so anyway yeah, when it comes to this I've had to do all the searching myself and I don't really know how well I've done.

But for books:

🍂 Orlando / Virginia Woolf

I kind of can't believe Virginia Woolf wasn't on my other recommendations because The Waves is one of my favourite books (again I think you have to have a lot of patience but it is beautiful) and this one is brilliant too. A man wakes up in a woman's body and gender roles are revealed to be a little bit silly.

🍂 Thérèse and Isabelle / Violet Leduc

Erotic novella about two girls at boarding school, low-key spoke to me as a bi girl who kind of started realising her bisexuality when exploring sexuality was sort of thrust upon me by female friends at school I guess. It's just a good example of feminine sexuality and desire written by someone who knows.

🍂 Chelsea Girls / Eileen Myles

I'm very into Eileen Myles as a poet and these stories are so so so so so fucking good too!!!!

🍂 In The Dream House / Carmen María Machado

I got into this because it's what Google recs when you finish The Dangers of Smoking in Bed / Mariana Enriquez and honestly, I didn't enjoy it as much but it was still amazing. It's gothic horror af but also a really important work on abusive relationships within the queer community which the author has personal experience of and thinks isn't spoken about enough. Its really haunting, did fuck me up a bit but ultimately in a good way. But be careful because it does chronical abuse and that can be upsetting.

🍂 On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous/ Ocean Vuong

Another one where I love their poetry and think they can do no wrong tbh, I haven't finished this yet (I keep getting distracted but don't be put off by that I'm just really easily distracted!!) And I think it's wonderful idk. It's also written in quite a cool style which is always a bonus I find.

🍂 Our Wives Under the Sea / Julia Armfield

I actually only read this because I read an essay on the Exorcist and body horror by the author where she talks about her experience with having a cyst that had to be operated on twice. The essay was so stunning that I was like damn, gonna have to read that book everyone's talking about now and bestie, was worth it. The books class also.

🍂 Sister Outsider / Audre Lorde

I just think everyone should read Audre Lorde, Audre Lorde should have been on the curriculum instead of endless Simon Armitage idk. I read this and Your Silence Will Not Protect You as a 19 year old and they changed the course of my life idk.

🍂 Communion / bell hookes

Read this and broke up with my shitty ex boyfriend. It's not entirely about lesbianism but more kind of, love in general, platonic, romantic, what it really means to love. She talks about the feminist choice to choose lesbianism which was a phenomenon in the 70s and also discusses a lot to do with how misogyny impacts womens ability to love and be loved. It was a really important read for me, made all the more important because when I picked up the book my boyfriend ripped into her name and tried to be like lol what would you read her for...and then I read it and was like oh HE'S the problem.

Poetry:

🐇Howl / Allen Ginsburg

I know he's problematic but for me Howl was the prototype, the first massive poem I read and loved as an adult, the first one where language really sounded musical to me, the first poem I heard that Hurt. If you can you should listen to the YouTube of him reading it in San Francisco,that's amazing.

I also really like A Supermarket in California.

🐇 Sappho

Just all of it I guess, I think we're all eventually pushed towards Sappho and for good reason.

🐇Emily Dickinson

Read her letters to Sue, Open Me Carefully. I read these one summer between school years and I think they changed me. Her poetry in general is wonderful, some of it occasionally comes off as very old fashioned (shock horror our girl was born in the 1800s) but there's much to savour there. Also apparently there's a TV series about her life on Apple TV, I don't have Apple TV though so I haven't seen it.

As for TV and movies I don't think I have anything at all. I don't watch a lot of TV and I mostly only watch the same 5 old man movies on repeat. I think books have always been my thing, I can concentrate on reading in a way I can't concentrate on TV and also just the fact you can put your book in your pocket and get it out on the bus, in the staff room, at school, at the pub when you're waiting for your pals etc... I was always a headphones and books gal so I don't really have any recs for TV. Sorry :/

EDIT: Kill Your Darlings!!!! As in the movie, if you're into the beats you should watch it, it's very good and a real insight into what was in reality a pretty nasty little scene.

#pacifymebby recs #pacifymebby books

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superblycaffeinated · 3 months

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We're back and ready to share the new and re-written story! I hope those that were reading the original So Far, So Goode are still with me, and for those of you that are new, welcome 🧡 I can't wait to hear what people think and I hope you enjoy it! Head on over to the So Far, So Goode masterlist here for information on the story, general warnings, and last, but certainly not least - the music. I'll be posting here and on Ao3 (under superbcoffeedrinkersubparwriter) - but you need to be a registered user to read over there. CW: description of guns

Chapter One:

To be honest with you, I used to think I was the furthest a person could possibly be from lonely.

Which, I suppose, is because I had never really been alone long enough to ponder the true depth of all that surrounds the word, feeling - state. The more I think about it, the more I start to doubt if I’ve even touched the surface of what it means to be alone.

I’m a triplet, so I haven’t been physically alone even before birth, save for the one minute and forty seven seconds both my brothers were out in the world before I arrived. Also, not only am I a triplet, but one of five Goode kids. Plus, there are my two cousins, and all of the Goodes that aren’t Goodes, but hell, yell the name in a room and they’ll all be turning their heads (a phenomenon I’m told goes well into the past). Long story short, I have a lot of family, making it almost impossible to ever be alone.

Since there are so many of us, I guess I should clarify which Goode I am for the official record or whatever? Believe it or not, I haven’t actually written a formal CoveOps report before this. Despite receiving a superior education in the field I wish to enter, I’ve never once encountered any training on how to write one of these things. My educators (and family) claim paperwork is the worst part of the job, so maybe they hold off until it’s too late and it just never gets taught? I don’t know. All this is to say, don’t judge me it’s not up to, like, professional standards, okay?

My name is Joelene Macey Goode, but everyone calls me Joey or Jo. I know most people hate nicknames, but I honestly prefer it over my full one. Not that Joelene is a bad name, but you try living eighteen years with people singing terribly offkey at you while you stand there awkwardly. So, no offense to Dolly, but I can’t hear Jolene without wincing now (but if you read this Ms. Parton, from one Gallagher Girl to another - you rule!).

And yup, that’s me. A Gallagher Girl. My identity, my cover, my school - all for the last five and half years of my life.

Since you’re reading this, I’m sure you know exactly who we are and what we do at The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, and you may be thinking you know all there is to know about us Gallagher Girls, but I am no ordinary one.

I’m a legacy, a fourth generation one to be exact. Meaning, a lot of Goodes (in one form or another) have walked those hallowed halls. They slept in the same rooms, they took the same classes, they ate the same creme brulee and then crushed records or did impressive enough things to end up with their pictures in our hallways and their names in our history textbooks (the ones that tell the real history that is). And they did it all before graduating.

It’d be one thing if it was just their accomplishments to live up to, but it’s the footsteps attached to the person attached to the name, that I’m truly scrambling behind.

Because, yes, you’ve been reading that last name correctly.

Goode.

Maybe you’ve heard of us? The best family in the biz, as Grandpa likes to boast.

I don’t like to phrase it quite that way too often as Grandpa usually gets a look from Grandma and mom that could kill him. And I mean, literally kill him, if Peter and I hadn’t accidentally broken the specific pair of glasses meant for such a thing on our fourteenth birthday.

Because, as I’m sure you’re very aware of, by the “biz”, Grandpa and I mean that martini shaking and pouring while dodging a bullet, running from the explosion in a suit hand in hand with a girl in heels, passionate kiss or dramatic monologue before jumping out of the moving train kind of stuff.

Spy craft.

Espionage.

The cool shit.

But don’t worry, I know that stuff doesn’t really happen and it’s all for the cinematic experience.

Why my Grandpa gets the looks, is because saying that “we’re the best in the biz” goes against everything my parents have told me and my four siblings our entire lives. That the name doesn’t mean we carry and wield this magical power. Being a Goode doesn’t allow us to assume we’re the best without working towards anything.

My parents weren’t wrong, and I’ve never, ever, once taken my last name to mean I could do what I wanted with zero consequences. In fact, it’s made me believe the exact opposite. It isn’t zero consequences when we mess up, it’s an astronomical amount. Because, when you’re a Goode, you’re not just messing up, all Goodes are too.

Instead of skating by on the merit of the name, I’ve spent my entire adolescence feeling as if I need to rise and thensome to earn the name that was simply just given to me because of my blood.

Oh you’re their daughter? So you can do this like that? Why yes, as a matter of fact I am the daughter of agents Morgan and Luke Goode, and while I can do it like that, I’ve been forbidden from doing it in the house, or from using it on my brothers, thanks for asking.

Also, yeah, you read those names correctly too. The best agents (in my totally unbiased opinion of course) the CIA has ever seen, are my parents.

So, you see, I’ve got Goode blood, and not just any. I have to do this. I have boots to fill and make my own impressive steps with - a name I have to live up to.

I’ll admit though, that the name, the legacy of it all, the movies I love, the training - none of it compares to the real reason I have to be a spy.

It’s a word, pretty well known around these parts, maybe you’ve heard of it?

Classified.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when someone tells me I can’t know or that I can’t do something, I cannot rest until I know all the information or I do the thing.

I’m told this lovely trait of mine comes from my mother, and a little bit of my dad, and potentially a whole lot from a great grandmother I’ll never know. So, I take breaks. I've learned when it’s time to take a step back - a breather - before I let the need to know or do swallow me whole. But I can’t let it go fully, not really, not until it’s done.

Which is why I have to be a spy, and not only a spy, but the best. Because if I’m the best, then that word is never going to be in my way again. Knowledge is power, and power is privilege, and privilege is responsibility.

So, when my mother was home for my entire Summer break, I knew it was my responsibility to -

Hold on. Let me backup. I don’t think that came out with the emphasis it requires to get my point across.

My mother, current and working agent Morgan Goode, of The CIA was home, doing “nothing”. All. Summer.

Something stunk, and it wasn’t just Andy and Peter’s disgusting socks that quite literally could have been radioactive.

All summer, the feeling that my great grandpa - Grandpa Joe - always tells me to never ignore, sat heavy in my gut.

A spy’s gut is their number one weapon, Joelene, and the longer mine felt off, my nerves frayed and sparked until the slow, incessant heat of something wrong, finally caught fire and I couldn’t ignore the burn any longer.

As mom took hushed phone calls and locked herself in the office of our safe house for hours, I felt the inside of that room and its contents calling to me like a flame does to a moth, or in my case, the opposite. I was the flame, engulfed, consumed by my need to know and that office and what was happening behind its closed door was the moth I was destined to devour.

And that was all before she used that awful, horrible, no good for shit word.

The classified of it all would have tipped me over the edge regardless, but it was the fact that it was my mom who said it that really sealed my fate.

I can count, on my two hands, the total number of times my mother has said that something was classified to me, without my dad prompting her to do so. She’s always been a little…shall we say looser? with information. She is the one who always sort of half answers our questions until dad is stepping in. He’s constantly reminding her that her children are not supposed to know that she stopped a bomb in Brazil or saved an ambassador to France and that she’s, “making us think it’s okay for them to sneak out of their heavily guarded and safe schools and fly to foreign countries when it is absolutely not okay and don’t even think about it.”

I’ve heard dad’s speech so many times, that I promise you, even if I wasn’t trained to recall intimate details and information, I would still be able to tell you it verbatim.

That speech wasn’t gonna stop me because it never has, and, as I’ve previously stated, I have that trait that makes it so I can’t let things go.

My dad shoved puzzles and code-breaking books at me all Summer. I beat Peter and Andy at Super Mario Brothers (the old one, from the 80’s, as Luigi - do you know how hard that is?). I beat Grandpa at Scrabble twice (which, okay, wasn’t that hard to do), and was forbidden from playing Monopoly with Peter inside the house ever again. I watched twenty-two spy movies, sixteen rom-coms, and five westerns. I learned the dance to Push It by Salt ‘n’ Pepa, mastered the Swift maneuver (that’s Taylor, by the way) and none of it worked.

At my wit’s end is when mom caught me staring at a vent in the hallway between bites of Fruit Loops. Calculations and assumptions of what would stand between me and the other side seemingly apparent on my thinking face as my milk turned pink and the cereal turned squishy, because mom shook her head slowly without lifting her eyes from a newspaper.

While, when she did lift her gaze, there was a distinct glint in her green eyes that could have you believing she was amused, her tone told me all I needed to know when she said, “Don’t even think about it if you love your eyebrows.” Which I really do (I have part of my namesake to thank for that - she never once let me take a tweezers to them no matter what the trends said) so, Operation Vent was out.

But a threat such as this was an obstacle of child’s play proportions. Potential eyebrow removal standing between me and information? It was fuel to an already raging fire, a carrot in front of a bunny, a tailored suit and a shaken not stirred martini before the finest double o seven.

So, on the morning of my mother’s birthday, the day before me and my brothers were to head off to school for our Senior year, I knew it was my last chance.

I was careful to avoid the creak of the floorboard directly to the left of my bed as I semi-rolled off of it.

Landing on socked feet, I held my breath as I glanced up at the bed across from mine. The eldest of all my siblings and us Goode kids, my sister Collins, was still asleep. Her chest rose and fell evenly under a buttercup yellow duvet and flat palms, her straight brown hair fanned over her pillow and framed her peaceful face.

She looked like a goddamn Disney princess even in her sleep and I’ve hated her since we were kids for it.

I hated her even more when my fingers had barely touched the cool metal of our door knob and her whisper sliced through the silence sharper than any knife my Grandpa had taught us to throw.

“Whatever it is you’re about to do, it’s not a good idea and you should go back to sleep.”

“I’m just going pee,” I lied easily.

She rolled her gorgeous eyes from her pillow, still laying on her side.

Collins, of all my siblings, is the most made to be a pavement artist. She is a natural at blending, at becoming whoever she needs to be, but her eyes have always given her away. They’re a soft and warm brown most of the time, but depending on what she’s wearing or the lighting around her, touches of green and blue come out. But no matter what color they are, they’re far too expressive.

Amusement and maybe a little pride shown in them then, her hands roamed under her cheek and her legs tucked up under the sheets as she spoke. “You have your lucky shirt on, and your lock picking set in your pocket. But sure, you’re going to the bathroom.”

“You never saw me,” I whispered, and practically somersaulted (to avoid the door hinges squeaking) out of the closest thing either of us had known to a childhood bedroom.

Spies aren’t totally devoid of feeling and emotion like the movies and novels would like you to think. They’re humans too, and crave and need a place to call home - they just need to be more careful about it, is all.

Growing up, we moved around DC a lot, but I’m sure our actual address was in California or Idaho or something. Grandma and Grandpa took care of us quite a bit when we were really little. One of my earliest memories is Grandpa teaching me the signs for when grilled cheese is ready to flip while also teaching me the exact spot to press with a precise pressure that makes your enemy release without control (a method he so humbly calls The Zach Attack, by the way) at their ranch in the Midwest.

There, and here, are the only two safe houses I’ve returned to. This one, close enough to school and DC, but not too close, is my childhood home if the life of a spy allowed such a thing. Sometimes, when I think about this place, I’m filled with an undeniable grief that makes my chest ache with something heavy. Because I know that one day, and maybe one not so far off, I’ll never return to it.

This is not where, if I choose to have them, my kids will take their first steps. A boyfriend won’t show up on this doorstep with flowers and a handshake for my dad. There aren’t lines of mine and my siblings' heights tracked, there aren’t framed photos hung on the walls, there is no attic full of boxes of baby clothes or memories too fond to get rid of.

Sure, there’s still little touches of our family here though. A dent in Andy and Peter’s room from where I flung open the door repeatedly hitting the knob into the wall. Peeling stickers of rock bands Peter and I plastered on the underside of the shelf in my closet. Scratches and scuffs on the hardwood from chairs being pushed away from the huge gathering table. A bright blue nail polish stain on the carpet in mom and dad’s room where Leia and I spilt it. We all give the fridge an extra bump with our hip to make sure it stays closed and we hit the top of the entrance to the living room as we pass underneath it.

It’s my home. And like any girl in her home, and like any spy, I know its sounds, its tricks and secrets, its shadows.

And sure, Collins caught me before I even left the bedroom, but that didn’t matter. If I avoided certain floor boards, if I kept low, and I worked slowly, I was convinced I could break into the office without anyone, particularly my mother, ever knowing.

I had managed to slip down the entire hallway without a hitch, and was knelt in front of the office door with my compact lock picking set (an actual compact with the ability to unlock anything, thanks to my Aunt Macey) when I heard something.

Hearing something, in the early hours of the morning, before the sky has really even transitioned from black to indigo, isn’t out of the ordinary.

But hearing something, at a remote safe house, when your entire family should be asleep, is out of the ordinary.

While I noticed the noise outside, I had failed to notice things, plural - my family’s number one rule.

Because I failed to notice the lack of a competing snore with Peter’s and the smell of cinnamon, I’m not proud to admit I jumped when my mother’s figure slipped around the corner from the kitchen and her voice calmly and quietly asked me, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately, because I knew if my mother was clarifying if she wasn’t alone in hearing something, it was serious. There would be time to discuss how I was literally caught in the act of breaking and entering later.

My mother stood at the end of the hallway, a steaming cup of coffee nestled between her hands. I snort and roll my eyes whenever anyone tells me I look like her. My mother is gorgeous, undeniably so, and while I may have her dark brown curls and green eyes, there’s no way I look like her.

Especially then, when she looked so much like a regular mom. My dad’s old SIX sweatshirt hung from tense shoulders. Worn navy fabric engulfed her frame, slightly covering rumpled pajama pants covered in penguins. Her brown curls were piled high on top of her head, loose pieces falling free and erratic.

But I knew about the scars under the sleeves, and the prosthetic beneath the penguins, and the look behind the green eyes. She was the furthest thing from a regular mom, especially when a louder thunk happened outside in what could be considered our driveway.

Mom knelt slowly, her gaze on the front of the house that I couldn’t see, as the door knob in front of me started to twist. Before I could even tell her, she calmly and quietly just said, “Dad.”

I’ve always known my parents were good spies, but I never thought I’d see it in action, like this.

The office door slowly opened, and dad barely looked at me, completely unphased as he called, “Morgan?”

He was equally fresh from sleep. A Blackthorne shirt pulled tight across his chest where letters faded and his plaid pajama pants wrinkled, looking so exceptionally dad, except for the black pistol in his hand.

I was suddenly and acutely aware of a real threat. This was not CoveOps. This wasn’t P & E. This wasn’t a fun field trip Grandma had taken us on to Roseville with Uncle Matt. The gun without a safety ready to shoot in my father’s hand spoke the words I’d been fearing for years - this is real, and you’re not prepared, are you Joelene?

“Here, I’m fi-”

Two doors at the end of the hallway opened, cutting her off.

My brothers blinked, heavy lids opening and closing sleepily but awake enough to assess the severity of the situation. Shirtless torsos tense as they both stared at the gun in my father’s hand and then at me with matching hard frowns. Their expressions were the beginning and end of their similarities. Peter’s brown hair was disheveled, curls flattened in some spots and sticking straight out in others. Andy’s blond was slightly less askew, if only because it was shorter. His green eyes landed exactly two inches taller than Peter’s brown, but his shoulders took up far less space in the doorway than Peter’s broad frame. One made to slip in and out of places he wasn’t supposed to and the other to barrel into anything that got in his way in the process.

Collins, who must have determined I’d need the assist, was dressed for the occasion in all black and glaring at me from her spot crouched in our doorway.

“I told you it was a bad-”

The front door knob rattled and my father was pushing me behind him as he stepped out of the office fully. He quickly made his way down the hallway, and I felt more than heard the steps of three of my siblings backing me up.

Dad made to grab for my mother until she held her hand up, all of us freezing at her silent command.

I’m convinced my parents have two different bodies.

There’s the mom and dad bodies. The soft spot on my dad’s chest that’s perfect for a cheek to rest while listening to him read Shakespeare. The hands my mom gently runs over our heads, carefully detangling my curls. Arms and hands that twirl bodies around the kitchen in time with old music, heads that throw back in laughter with ease.

Then, there are their highly trained take no shit I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine spy bodies.

I hadn’t really seen these versions of my parents until then. Sure, I’d seen them fight, we all have dad to thank for our own stances. But this was different. These were shoulders and hips that stood with purpose, strong, planted, but ready to move. Arms that held a gun steady and sure. Eyes that communicated with each other without mouths saying a word. Bodies that were inherently made to protect, to fight.

To kill.

It was in less time than it took me to blink that their bodies transformed back into their mom and dad versions.

The gun dropped to my dad’s side, their shoulders fell, tears quickly made my mom’s eyes glassy and both of them breathed out a name in the way only parents can.

“Leia.”

I’d never seen my dad move so quickly, disappearing around the corner before my mom could.

A quiet and familiar giggle burst out from the entryway, thick with tears as she whispered, “Hi, daddy.”

The four of us barreled down the hallway, tripping over each other and shoving, not believing it was her without seeing it for ourselves.

Mom disappeared next, accompanied by the voice that couldn’t possibly be there, louder, and happier than her first words, “Happy Birthday!”

“What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you tell us? Your dad could have -”

“Because it was a surprise,” my other sister interrupted my mother in a way I’ve never been brave enough to do so and I knew it was really her. Here. Especially when she said, “Where are the idiots?”

If Collins was made to blend, Leia was born to stand out. Even in an olive green t-shirt and camo government issued pants, Leia Goode sparkled, she glowed. Her blonde curls were pulled into a uniform low bun, and I had never seen her so tan, or her muscles so defined. Her green eyes practically glittered when the four of us rounded the corner, and her dimple poked out on her cheek and her freckled covered nose scrunched as she smiled.

Collins managed to reach her first, but we all slammed into her, tripping over the two large green duffles at her feet as we all fell to the ground in a laughing and crying heap of chaos - our speciality.

Leia winced under all of us, quick and quiet enough that if we weren’t who we all were, if we weren’t all still a little on edge, we wouldn’t have noticed.

“Are you hurt?” Collins pushed all of us out of the way, gaze roaming over Leia protectively. Nurse Collins activated and assessing.

“No,” Leia shrugged. But not the kind of shrug that admits you’re lying, the kind that, delivered properly, and with the right expression she currently wore, made you think you were crazy for asking. Of course she wasn’t hurt, why would you think such a thing?

Normally, this expert lie delivery could win awards, and I’m sure Leia thought she was in the clear, on her way to The Academy to collect hers. But, the thing is, our parents are not normal parents. And while many parents seem to have this, like, engrained skill to suss out a lie, spy parents are worse.

Way worse.

Each of them took a step closer, crossing their arms as they stared down at Leia like they weren’t thrilled to have her home.

It was a shared look we’d all come to know extremely well. Without moving or saying anything, they seemed to circle you, pulling out your lie with only their eyes, making you spill your guts easily.

They were good and highly trained, and we were no match for them. We all knew it was easier to fold - don’t lie when you’ve already been caught, don’t lie to the people who know your tells better than you do.

But Leia stood with ease, and smiled. She shrugged again and looked at my parents without wavering.

“I’m fin-”

“Don’t,” my mom narrowed her eyes with the word. She sucked in a breath, and I knew a speech was coming, but Leia threw her hands up in the air with a groan.

“Alright! There was a tiny incident. It’s already healing.”

Andy’s fist clenched at his side, his jaw pulsing as he asked, “What happened?”

Leia pinched the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb, closing her eyes in the process so she couldn’t see how my mom’s lips twitched in the fight of a smile or how her gaze made pointed contact with my dad’s.

It was something we’d all seen him do a hundred times at least and before Leia could answer, Peter snorted, hands covering his mouth as his shoulder shook.

Collins bit her lip, unable to hide her grin. Andy shivered, muttering “That’s scary.” I sucked in a breath, fighting a wheeze and Peter fell against me, laughing harder.

Leia’s eyes flew open, looking around with a frown. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” my mom shook her head, tucking one of Leia’s stray curls back behind her ear, “What happened?”

Leia frowned, placed her hands on her hips and huffed.

“It’s classified.”

Mom snorted and we all lost it. Dad grinned and kissed Leia’s forehead right above where her eyebrows knit together as she whined about how she didn’t get it and that someone needed to tell her what was so funny right now.

It didn’t matter why she was home, or that she hadn’t answered the question, not really. It didn’t matter that I still didn't know what was going on in the office all summer. It didn’t matter that my dad had a gun and had been ready to use it.

All that mattered was that we were laughing, and safe, and together for the first time in a long time.

#we're back baby #gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #gallagher girls fanfiction #the listen series #so far so goode #goode intentions

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helenapsent · 1 year

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Re-watched episode 5 of season 3 of The Adventures of Cat in Boots, and I want to point out something interesting:

1) The musical themes of Thriffith and El Moco are identical to each other. But it's important to keep in mind that the rhythm in the music probably applies more to Scimitar, since it is his theme that features heavy drum beats and a sound reminiscent of the clanging or clanking of steel. After all, they both share the same weapons, with which they both had no problem (logically).

Certainly El Moco has his own theme, and we've heard it throughout the seasons (it features an electric guitar, and a combination of Mexican and wild west motifs), but as for Thriffith it's… it's weird enough. Weird in the sense that it's often intertwined with the Scimitar theme, which makes it hard to know which sound relates to which. If you leave out the evil sword theme (hello synonyms), Thriffith's theme sounds a little ominous, tense, and it's basically uncomfortable in itself. When he appears you can hear echoes of drums, a battle cry, and you can also hear brass instruments well, and the music itself is similar to those variations of villainous themes when the hero wanders into the lair of the enemy, or the enemy on the contrary surrounds the hero with minions (for example, you can listen to the soundtracks to the movie "Ultraviolet", as they just use something similar (especially "Chapel fight", "700 men" and "Unarmed")). During the story of Goodsword, about how he and Thriffith discovered the old temple of Scimitar, you can hear multivoiced choral singing in the background. It is also present in the background during the fight with the cats. When he repented and told what was really going on, the music was quite gentle and quieter. In general, the music in his presence depends on the situation, his interlocutor, and the place in which he is present. The rest of the time he has no definite theme. It's silence (there was also an isolated case when music denoted emotion, and specifically aggression and resentment, and this also contained the echoes of the trumpet). In other words, Thriffith's theme has the sound of wind instruments or polyphonic choral singing, and it can be said that his musical theme combines several themes, as it is ambiguous and influenced by circumstances.

Anyway, I already told you that El Moco and Thriffith have one weapon in common.

2) Thriffith and El Moco appear in the same series, only in the same season.

It’s a pretty amazing phenomenon, bc, look, Thriffith is just as much a "villain of one series" as most other villain characters and its appearance in three seasons is justified as follows: in the first season - he’s the villain of the day; in the second season - he is included in the story, which can be considered a "record of the victories" of Puss in Boots (all the villains in it united in one mince, if I may say so); and the third season - he was supposed to be a warrior in the team of Puss, but, lmao, he is not really going to participate in all this, he’s tired of everything, just leave him alone, he’s been through an abuse and he needs a break, not all of this :D

El Moco, unlike Thriffith, appears in all seasons (not even because of his cameo Danny Trejo), and is a key figure as he is primarily the Bandit King and has a very complex story arc. However, the fact that he appears ONCE in the entire third season is strange, as he is usually given 2-4 episodes. When he appears only once during the whole season, it is something like a rare phenomenon (at least it happened in seasons 1, 3 and 5), something that is not typical for his figure.

However, this is a very interesting detail.

3) Thriffit is "creepy". (who in this series is not creepy? : DD)

Okay, okay, let’s get serious. Thriffith is called weird for the third time. Or rather, the Duchess confirms that he is, to put it mildly, "out of his mind", or rather, she said that he is "a creepy weirdo". Judging by what the Duchess learned from thieves ("villainy party" at which all villains must hang, including thieves), this confirms the fact that: thieves love to gossip and also contribute to spreading rumors, and besides, they discuss everything within their evil-thieving circle.

The fact that Thriffith is "creepy" and "weird" is his trait. It is known, perhaps he always was. As early as season one, he said that Goodsword selects those who have "no killer instinct". Which means that Thriffith himself has a killer instinct, and he deliberately left Goodsword on his own. This man can actually slaughter anyone, and it’s just been a stretch. He’ll either apologize for committing the murder or not, and it all depends on his personal relationship to his opponent. So he may have chosen to kill for himself because it’s more interesting to live like this (perhaps) because murderers and villains have more authority in society than heroes who risk their position every day.

And we know that in the end he decided to retire because he was tired. However, this does not mean that he disowned his nature. He can still calmly discuss the murders or what he did while he owned Scimitar. It is an interesting and mysterious character, in the end he is funny and he can win the audience.

#the adventures of puss in boots #thriffith #el moco #goodsword #scimitar #theory #fan theory #I’ll get to the bottom of this show you know me #In addition it is very good that the finale of the series decided to play so that everything is back to where it started #There are many advantages #helen thinks

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 1 year

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NITA STRAUSS Announces Second Solo Album, 'The Call Of The Void'

ALICE COOPER guitarist Nita Strauss will release her sophomore solo album, "The Call Of The Void", on July 7 via Sumerian Records. The LP's latest single, "The Golden Trail", featuring a guest appearance by IN FLAMES vocalist Anders Fridén, can be streamed below.

Regarding the album's title, Strauss shared: "Have you ever been at the top of a high building and had the fleeting thought, '… I could jump right now?' This feeling is sometimes called 'The Call Of The Void,' also known as 'high place phenomenon.' It's not a suicidal impulse, rather the exact opposite — a subconscious decision to live your life, to step back from the ledge, and take control. As researcher April Smith aptly put it: 'An urge to jump affirms the urge to live.'

"I wanted the follow-up to 'Controlled Chaos' to be exciting, new, and fresh, to take listeners to a new place and take myself somewhere new as an artist too. We have some amazing collaborations on this album with incredible musicians, as well as the instrumental guitar music that first inspired me to play.

"Some pieces of music come into the world gracefully and easily. This album is not one of them! 'The Call Of The Void' was born kicking and screaming, a labor of love for sure, but also of blood, sweat and plenty of tears. I couldn't be more proud of the end result. Making this album helped me learn and grow so much as a musician and songwriter and I'm excited to finally unleash it on the world."

On the collaboration with Fridén, Strauss said: "When I was first learning how to play guitar, IN FLAMES were my BEATLES, my first favorite band. Anders's iconic vocal style is burned into my mind! To write a song like this and have him sing on it, as a kid who grew up with IN FLAMES posters on my walls, is an absolute dream come true."

"It was a lot of fun to collaborate with Nita on 'The Golden Trail'," added Fridén. "She's an amazing guitar player and I can hear the history of metal flowing through her fingers."

"The Golden Trail" is the fourth song Nita has released featuring a star guest vocalist, the first being the enormously successful "Dead Inside" which featured guest vocals from DISTURBED's David Draiman and saw Nita become the first-ever solo female to have a No. 1 hit at Active Rock radio. She also returned to her instrumental roots last year with the release of single "Summer Storm", a fast-paced, emotive shred-fest. In October 2022, Nita dropped "The Wolf You Feed", an epic headbanger of a track featuring the insane vocal talent of Alissa White-Gluz of ARCH ENEMY. This past March, Strauss released "Winner Takes All", featuring a guest appearance by Alice Cooper.

Back in February 2022, Nita told SiriusXM's "Trunk Nation With Eddie Trunk" about her upcoming LP: "It's gonna be half and half — six tracks with vocalists and six tracks of instrumental [music]. We've been doing ['Dead Inside'] live on the solo tour and it's been getting a super-good reaction from our crowds."

In early December 2022, Nita told "The Mistress Carrie Podcast" about her decision to make the upcoming LP half vocal songs and half instrumental: "I did feel, and the label and everybody agreed, it's still important for me to keep my identity as a guitar player and not just branch off too much and go, 'Okay, well, now it's just guests.' Let me still have a little of what makes me me, which is the instrumental shred stuff. And the instrumental pieces that I've written on this record are, I think, better than anything I did on the first one — definitely more… I don't know if it could be more emotional but they're very emotional pieces of music and I think a little better crafted this time around. So I think all the songs in general are more well thought out, better put together this time around. And I do have some of my absolute favorite [singers guesting on it]. I have three amazing powerhouse female vocalists on this album so far."

Nita released 2018's "Controlled Chaos" to mass acclaim from fans and media alike, with Metal Injection calling it "a great debut that — as its creator intended — leaves no doubt", and Guitar World stating "'Controlled Chaos' is a panoramic view of Nita Strauss's many strengths".

In March, it was announced that Nita would return to Alice's band for his 2023 tour.

The Alice Cooper North American tour, with an all-new show dubbed "Too Close For Comfort", kicked off in late April in Michigan and will continue through late September, including a handful of August stadium shows with DEF LEPPARD and MÖTLEY CRÜE, followed by a co-headlining late summer "Freaks On Parade" tour with Rob Zombie.

Nita spent eight years playing with Alice before joining Demi Lovato's band last summer,

Strauss played her first full live show with Demi in August 2022 at the Grandstand at the Illinois State Fair in Springfield, Illinois.

Nita made her live debut with Demi in July 2022 with a performance of "Substance" on ABC's Emmy Award-winning late-night show "Jimmy Kimmel Live!".

Strauss had been playing with Cooper since 2014 when she replaced Australian musician and former Michael Jackson player Orianthi. She joined Alice in time for a mammoth MÖTLEY CRÜE tour. She was recommended to Cooper by the legendary rocker's former bass player and WINGER frontman Kip Winger.

#nita strauss #the call of the void #2023 news

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ladybirdplace · 2 years

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Pygmalionism part 2

TW: passing suicide mention and school trauma.

So now, I talk about the stigma of this. Disregarding the stigma of being auto or just into yourself at all in general, there is a very distinct stigma around the experience of not wanting to romantically/sexually engage with anything that is sentient and rather has its own selfhood.

That’s why I mentioned Ruby Sparks as an example. Ruby Sparks is a commentary about love and how people idealize each other into caricatures and love that, rather than the actual person who inspired that creation in their head.

Calvin is a person who wants to date a real person, but he can’t handle a person having a real identity beyond what he wants them to be like. Of course these types of people are stigmatized because holding your partner to unrealistic standards and only accepting a perfect version of them is harmful.

However, Ruby Sparks was partly inspired by the Pygmalion myth which describes the kind of thing I’m talking about.

But to be more specific about the phenomenon I really am talking about, I’ll put here the lyrics to a song I love about a man and his love for his sex doll. Olivia, by Harley Poe:

"I got my figures on the wall,

Comics stacked up in the hall;

I got a movie in my DVD player

I got my music that I love,

And a girl sent from above

I got my problems, but

They seem so little next to her

Man, oh, man, I got no money,

Spend it all on my new honey

I got you, and you got me,

And that's all that we need

No one seems to understand me,

Lay there still, don't ever leave me

I feel inside you're all I have

So, baby, hear my plea

And even though I can't converse with you,

There are so many other things that we can do

As you lay there lifeless on my bed,

You were never really livin', so you can't be dead!

You'll never die, so tears won't be shed

So you think that I'm so cool,

Not like I was back in school,

I didn't have a friend and everyone was mean

Introverted and I know it,

And I'm not afraid to show it,

'Cause there's no one here like me,

It's my scene

Man, oh, man, I can't relate

To others and it feels so great,

I don't need people, don't need friends,

I only want my toys

Lovin' you, it must be sin,

I'm talkin' to myself again

That's okay, 'cause momma said

I'm not like other boys

Olivia, you're not a real female,

But you'll work for me

When relationships fail

Olivia, your skin it feels

So real;

On the Internet

Is where I got this great deal"

This song depicts a man who is introverted, asocial and dissatisfied with the way that people have treated him in the past. Rather than have a girlfriend, he much prefers a sex doll to be his companion.

And I know that these types of people—me being included in that group—are stigmatized unfairly. Of course there’s stigma surrounding being objectum, but I mean the inner workings behind why someone would prefer an object to a real person.

I know neurotypical, allistic society thinks that people are the ultimate panacea, but the truth is that people are difficult. People are hard to deal with, and as an extension, relationships are hard to make work.

But more than that, people are terrifying, especially for someone like me.

And when you have someone like me, who is afraid of relationships, the knee jerk reaction is to say that I just haven’t found my tribe yet, and once I do, all that fear will dissolve and I’ll be normal.

And yeah, maybe that’s right, but . . . Really, I don’t think it’s that big a deal if people want to be alone because they’re afraid.

I mean, to me it’s the same as people forcing autistic people to repeatedly be exposed to things that overstimulate them or cause them to meltdown so they can 'get used to it', but it only results in unnecessary hurt and trauma.

For someone like me, who is so incredibly drained by the slightest contact, even socializing with people I love is painful, sometimes physically painful. It drains me, and I only need more time alone after that, to recharge and gather my sanity.

It’s exhausting to socialize inherently, because I have only learned to socialize with people by masking. Even if I don’t do it very well, it still disconnects me from myself, and I don’t return to myself until I’m alone. And that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I am traumatized by the constant socialization I went through in school, among other things school put me through not related to socializing.

Meeting so many people, talking all the time, perpetually having to explain myself, being forced to work without pay while still being grovelingly respectful, being forced to be with people who's presence was the psychological equivalent to a blinding florescent light being blinked in your eyes at point blank range first thing in the morning on for six hours straight and still be expected to not show the evidences of my being blinded, to be fine and not want to off myself and do it all over again tomorrow . . . It tired me beyond words.

And that’s not counting my fear of being mistreated by people.

Everything about socializing is exhausting for me. Everything. Even with people I love and cherish. I live with my mom, and I would die for her a million times if I had to, and I still get tired A LOT.

I really, really wish I could just not talk unless it was completely necessary, all because of that. I have to preserve my ever-waning energy for other things, and I don’t want to waste it on talking, but I do anyway.

Nonverbal communication is somehow worse because I’m always second guessing myself and wondering what the hell they actually mean. And when it comes to eye contact and touching, I have my limits.

Everything about a romantic relationship or a sexual encounter is just plain nightmarish to me now. I’ve had my taste, and it was enough to know what I can handle at this point in my life, because I know who I am, no matter what people will tell me on the contrary.

It’s not just fear of rejection or laziness or not liking people, it’s about the great big conundrum of the entire thing. But people don’t think about that. To them, there is no valid reason to be asocial.

I don’t think that fearing relationships or just not being compatible with certain types of relationships and so preferring something safer and more comfortable is shameful or pathetic or sad or wrong. I think that it is completely valid and it should be respected.

And because I know myself and my own needs, I can recognize that there are some things that I should not do, like own a pet or have a child, because I am not responsible enough for it.

Having a relationship is another responsibility that I am not ready for in my life, and maybe I never will be ready for it, or maybe if I ever am, I won’t want to be in a relationship still. I am okay with all those outcomes.

But I am very glad for the fact that I am smart enough to know that the sort of responsibilities you take on in a relationship are not something I can healthily handle right now or perhaps ever. There are so many people in the world who bite off more than they can chew, and have to deal with the consequences for the rest of their life.

(As a sidenote, I personally think, there are some people in the world who just aren’t compatible with anyone at all. And sometimes there are people in the world who’s aloneness is rather a mercy to the rest of us.)

I’d like it if people would be more open to people who have social anxiety modifying the way they live their lives to be more comfortable and fulfilled, even if it tweaks time-honored traditions that are only acknowledged as existing in one form, like romantic relationships and sexual intercourse.

And I know that in the case of myself, using objects and characters is just another way I express love for myself, and I think that is beautiful. It gives me joy and satisfaction in my life to be able to love myself in so many different ways.

#ladybird speaks #autosexual #autoromantic #autosexuality #autoromanticism #fictoromantic #fictosexual #fictoromanticism #fictosexuality #objectum sexuromantic #stigma

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chryzure-archive · 1 year

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1-6 and 9 for the OC ask game!!

i’ll answer for tris bc UMMM i’m thinking of him so hard rn <33

1. What is their color palette?

pulled directly from my procreate app <3

2. What does your OCs handwriting look like?

i’d say it’s blocky, but not in the jacks kind of blocky.. it’s very precise, i’d say?? think “mom writing you letters in kindergarten in all caps so you can read it” type of handwriting. unless that’s too specific of a phenomenon and not all parents do that 💀

3. What architectural or design aesthetic would best suit them?

honestly,,, i think he has a bit of a combo of dark and green coloring. tris likes a nice, homey architectural design with plants climbing over it.. he needs to get away from ppl, they cause him a lot of distress, so he hates a metropolitan sort of design so much. i don’t know if i’m making sense, but also a bit of modern mid-century flair to his interior design, but with a more cluttered aspect to it.

4. If your OC likes art, talk about which piece they would love best.

pretty much all of walter wick’s stuff… tris loooooves the little clutter, but how it feels homey this time. it’s not stressful to him—it feels so comforting to him. like:

this is tris’s home. he lives here <3 it makes him think of his childhood and tbh i think it makes him want to work on miniatures :3

also he likes chris van allsburg. similar thing, where it feels homey, but also bc he introduced him to some horror elements as a child. mysteries of harris burdick is lowkey terrifying, ngl

5. What character from myth or fairytale best represents them?

okay, so i’m slowly working through all of hans christen andersen’s fairy tales (for my luna rune series), and i know this is a bit of a well-known one, but the original little mermaid myth… aughhh, it fits tris too well. he would walk if it felt like he were walking on knives, jst to be with chrysi. he would give up his singing voice. he would let her marry azure and let himself die frm heartbreak, bc he had happy days w chrysi…. man, i love hans christen andersen ;;;;;

6. If your OC was a character in a novel from literary canon (doesn’t have to be western canon), who would they be?

he makes me think a lot of matilda from roald dahl’s matilda tbh… in how he has magic ??? idk, i can’t explain it. it’s the vibes of him, i think. he also makes me think a bit of nick carraway from the great gatsby. just an observer of someone else’s story, generally polite and reserved, and he views himself as very honest too, so. you know.

9. If your OC were to imagine their idyllic life (realistically or otherwise) what would it be like?

LITERALLY HE JUST WANTS TO GO BACK AND REDO THINGS WITH CHRYSI SO THEY CAN STILL BE TOGETHER. his idyllic life is him making music with his gf, and they both work on their respective art forms in a local coffee shop or in the park while they hold hands, then they go home to their little cute house with hanging plants and ivy climbing up the walls and they have cats that like to lay down in their laps… :((( also tris likes to imagine taking chrysi around the world to all the countries he’s toured in with his band, jst so he can take her to those quiet spots he escaped to when he was stressed. he knows how much chrysi likes to also escape from stressful/loud environments. god… i’m sad now :((

#.asks #s.trysi #m.moon🎀#all the lafayes are soooo whipped over chrysi and i cannot blame them <//3 #i want to read more of those fairy tales now… i must finish them… for my luna rune story

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tutyayilmazz · 2 years

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It's so refreshing to see someone not afraid to speak about Gio not in a obsessive manner, I'm really glad you say how you feel, it's sad that other people who also aren't her fans are getting so much hate every time they make a comment, it's insane, this fandom is so toxic

i haven't witnessed it myself, though i'm not directly among the fandom group, but i'll believe considering how several people acted like i said smth actually offensive when i called damiano's sphynx tattoo ugly 😂😂 i've been in fandom spaces since i was tragically too young probably and there's always the good and the bad, best is to find like-minded people and stick to them. though i do wish that the general sane parts of any fandom just completely ignored the immature parts, cuz really, it isn't worth it to not speak your mind about things that are trivial in the grand scheme of things bc some random teenagers on the internet could think you're hashtag problematic in the most annoying sense of the word, this also very much goes for the gymnastics fandom :')

but yes this phenomenon of ms. soleri et al. is interesting bc on one hand, it's refreshing that fan culture has moved past loathing the partners of any man of interest, on the other, that it's changed to immediate worship of said women is quite something. giorgia's effort for the recognition of endometriosis is admirable work and that will have my support the majority of the fandom interest is not about that. i mean, i do get people love to see them be an adoring couple and to project onto that, like yeah i'm also a lonely twentysomething and the man in question is so interesting, attractive, talented, charismatic... how many of us wouldn't want to be in her place? but that's where it ends for me. (okay perhaps i also understand people's curiosity about her as a person with the allusions of coraline but to me coraline is a beautiful work of art on its own that speaks to me, not bc of the depth it adds to a public relationship and what not, some people really make me wonder if they're really fans of the music or just hopped along for the brangelina ride)

but to me the biggest things is... i just absolutely refuse to silently accept this reality we live in where shilling overpriced products to what i assume are clueless teenagers is considered a valid """career""" and legitimately rakes in cash??? in two seconds the world went from everyone mocking the word ~influencer~ to it being used seriously??? i detest it and can't ignore it. then there's people who say that they don't agree with the idol treatment for the others' girlfriends but get it for giorgia bc she's a "public figure", which, i guess, grudgingly in this day and age, and published a book of poetry, which is being joked about for its rupi kaur-esque blandness on italian twitter as we speak. and do people really think any first-time author would get this much attention if their "personal brand" wasn't being boosted by the title of La Fidanzata di Damiano dei Maneskin(tm) and whatever sinister inner mechanisms of fame and publicity and marketing that i genuinely don't want to know? i do appreciate that there's people who post the cats and the occasional damiano cameo from her insta though, that i can't complain about lol

and with that i have successfully procrastinated getting started on my thesis past another 1 am, thank you for joining me :'D

#ask #anon #sorry gymternet friends i got carried away once again

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comradesummers · 2 years

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about to write an extremely niche post about a broadway show that barely has a fandom. sorry but i have to get this off my chest.

right, okay, so i love the band’s visit. it’s a great musical, the songs are gorgeous and the cast is excellent. also i love any show that expands the horizons of the kind of music that can be played in musical theater. having an oud on a broadway stage is fucking incredible and unprecedented.

here’s the thing though, i regret to inform you that i’m also israeli (against the occupation, anti-zionist, etc.) meaning that i was familiar with the movie the show is based on long before i saw the show. because of this and also because of the cultural knowledge i’ve acquired from living in this godforsaken place, i can point to some elements in the original film that were not present in the show, that completely transform the context and connotations of the show’s themes.

right so, the town of beit of hatikvah is fictional, but crucially, it is not generic. it is, in both the film and the play, clearly reminiscent of the average Israeli development town. development towns are “urban settlements built or significantly expanded by the israeli state, mainly during the 1950s, for the settlement of immigrants. the towns were mainly inhabited by mizrahi jews of low socioeconomic background” (quoting from a paper by oren yiftachel). these development towns, often referred to as the periphery of israel, were intentionally positioned in the then largely empty negev desert, because the ashkenazis in power in the 50′s and 60′s wanted to strengthen their borders (zionism gotta zionism) and they accomplished this by gathering a lot of mizrahi jews and basically placing them on the border. but of course not before stealing some of their kids and giving them to white people to “““civilize”””. so in addition to ethnically cleansing the arabs that were already here, israel also managed to thoroughly screw over a good half of our jewish population because they weren’t white.

now, this is information that the implied audience of the film—i.e., israelis—would be intimately familiar with. and although none of the beit hatikvah residents ever identify themselves as mizrahi jews in the film, the setting makes it clear that is what they are. not to mention that all of the actors in the movie that play beit hatikvah residents are mizrahi jews.

and the thing is, all of this context is essential to fully understand the themes of the film. this is not simply a story about two disparate groups attempting to communicate. it is, specifically, a narrative about the relationship between egyptians and mizrahi jews. so in the movie, when dina talks about how much she loved the egyptian films that were shown on tv every friday, it’s not just an expression of her appreciation of egyptian cinema. quoting from this article by ryan zohar (which i highly recommend reading, it’s a very good explanation of the historical context of the phenomenon of the friday night egyptian move): “during a period of israeli history when mizrahim were encouraged to become ‘good israelis’ by hating the arab-within and the arab-without, the weekly arab film served as a respite of sorts […] they could be arab for one hour each week from six o’clock to seven o’clock on friday evenings.” evidently, knowledge of the character’s background completely transforms how you’re going to read that scene.

which is why it’s kind of a travesty that in adapting the film, the writers made zero effort to communicate any of this to an american audience. and it’s not like they didn’t have an opportunity to do so. there are two different songs in the play, “waiting” and “welcome to nowhere” that serve to introduce the town to the audience. but neither one of these songs, which again, i cannot stress enough, are exposition songs, make any mention of the characters’ ethnic backgrounds. not to mention that, like i said, the beit hatikvah cast in the movie is comprised entirely of mizrahi jews. whereas, in the play, as far as i can tell almost non of the beit hatikvah cast is mizrahi. i mean i love katrina lenk as dina don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of fucked up that this white lady (who isn’t even jewish lol) is playing a part that was originated by ronit elkabetz (z”l) a woman who wrote, directed and starred in a trilogy of films about her family’s experience as moroccan jews in israel (all of which are bangers btw, highly highly recommended).

the result of all this is that a story about the possibilities of connection based on a shared cultural background is lowkey depoliticized in favor of a far more generic why-can’t-we-all-just-get-along message. and i think that’s a shame.

#the band's visit #broadway #if you read this all the way through you're very sweet thank you #jews #jumblr #israel

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veliseraptor · 2 years

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How about top five pet peeves you would erase from existence (and/or fix) if a genie was super generous in granting you wishes?

been staring at this one for a while because I know I have many pet peeves but most of them I wouldn't actually necessarily want to erase from existence because at least some of them would be impinging on other peoples' right to do things that are perfectly fine and I don't actually want them to do that, I just want them to not do things around me sometimes.

but okay let's think about this. things that bother me that I feel like if I could wave them away it wouldn't make peoples' lives measurably worse... (keeping this to like. relatively minor/innocuous things.)

1. Thinly veiled character bashing fic. Probably the least serious one on this list and also the most online but hey, it's my pet peeves, and this is definitely one. Look, I get it if you don't like a character, if you want to give that character their comeuppance or whatever, but there's a certain genre of fic that very clearly only exists to air the author's grievances about a specific character and make them The Worst Ever and Everything Is Their Fault and They Should Be Miserable for the Rest of Forever. And it's just. It doesn't make for good fic, tbqh, if nothing else. And it's definitely irritating to find for fans of that character when they're browsing the tag.

And if you think I'm talking about a specific character, I'm really not. This has been a thing with many different characters in pretty much every fandom I've been in, and it always drives me nuts. Yes, even when I don't like the character.

2. The need to publicly air grievances. Speaking of publicly airing grievances! I was talking about this with some friends and I think it would be great if everyone - and I am including myself in this though I'm making an effort - would make more use of the "complaining privately to a friend" function rather than the "blasting personal feuds into the public domain." In general I think that "dealing with conflict privately" is something that is a good practice and possibly underutilized on the internet these days. And I think it would also cut down on the phenomenon of someone complaining about something specific and then someone else assuming it's about them personally and reacting angrily.

3. People listening to music in public without headphones. Moving off online behaviors - reblogged a post about this recently but particularly as a public transit taker I would like to beg everyone to please stop inflicting your music upon me, I don't want to hear it, I don't care how good you think your music is, this is not sharing a fun experience, this is making me want to scream/throttle you/cry depending on how hypersensitive to noise I am feeling on a given day. Just put it headphones. Please.

4. The existence of Twitter. Maybe this is hyperbolic but like. I don't think Twitter is the source of the evils of our modern age or anything, it's not, but it's definitely not helping. And also I just personally find Twitter and everything about it absolutely infuriating. Redeeming factors? I guess it still allows smutty fanart. That's about all I've got. I'm not going to axe it immediately, people can have time to find alternate ways to keep in touch/archive things they want to archive, but then. It's gone.

5. Chronic pain. Yeah okay this one is significantly more serious than the rest of the things on this list but speaking from my position of having dealt with back pain starting in my teenage years and knowing many, many people who have it worse than I do - come on! I recognize that pain is a means of telling me that something is wrong but maybe say it once and don't just. Keep yelling about it constantly. It's not helping. The problems aren't going to go away because the human body is a miraculous mess but it seems like maybe the pain thing specifically could be dialed down a little.

#conversating #anonymous #top five meme #speaking of airing grievances...

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walkuntilthedaylight · 3 years

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The people have spoken! How can I not give them what they want?

I'm gonna put this all under a cut, since it's a bit long, and also because it's highly interpretative/speculative and not everyone likes those kinds of posts as they can be rather subjective and, I suppose, invasive. I want to give two major caveats to my thoughts below: first is that I tend not to buy the idea that Paul was the "stable/normal" Beatle, mostly b/c I view marijuana dependency and workaholism as addictions and I take them pretty seriously. Second is that I really do love this kind of tabloid/gossip/personal account shit; I think it should be taken with a handful of salt, but I don't think it should be entirely dismissed out of hand either. I read this stuff like I'm piling up sheets of stained glass: I'm intrigued by the places where the colours blend and overlap, and ignore things that fall outside the prism. Anyway, let's dig in:

Okay, so what I found fascinating about 'Body Count' is that it's one of the only sources which observes Paul McCartney's mental health during the period between the India trip and when the band breakup really got rolling. I think it's overall a fairly self-absorbed text that definitely has some lies and exaggerations peppered in there to make things spicier and more dramatic, but its broad characterization - as I mentioned in my first post - isn't exactly libelous or out of left field. Some elements that make me think it's generally if not wholly authentic are: Paul's simultaneously forceful and dorky seduction style, his terrible Liverpool diet and poor housekeeping, the bouts of thrill-seeking recklessness, avoidant adventure crafting, dark moods when drinking non-socially, the occasional hot and cold bouts with the Apple Scuffs camped out at his gate, and the way in which he underplays his drug habit, which is SO "in truthfulness we spent most of the filming of Help! slightly stoned":

These details are so bizarrely specific and have significant overlap with both sympathetic and spurned personal accounts of Paul I've read in the past, so I believe Francie is just telling "Her Version Of The Truth" here rather than crafting a piece of pure fiction. The most important and revealing anecdote in the book is this one.

There's no reason not to believe this is a fairly accurate representation of something that actually happened, imo, since we know that anxious purse strings were an ongoing issue in the unusual turnover rate within the band Wings, and there are plenty of confirmed and rumoured cases alike of extended family members feeling entitled to a "piece of the pie"; this is just like, the kind of thing that happens to working class people who get catapulted into fame and fortune. And Paul in particular already had deep-seated financial anxiety for whatever reasons he'll never fully admit (as is his right, but I think his offhand claim that he "once heard some adults arguing about money and that's why" might actually be alluding to having heard some adults - y'know, like his parents - arguing over money fairly frequently). What esp interests me about the anecdote is the way Paul seems to connect the conflict b/t his dual "identities" with these financial expectations. Perhaps the CAPSLOCK emotional hysteria related in the book is puffed up for drama, but it does bring to mind one of the most revealing comments Linda ever made about their relationship, which is that Paul needed to be told he would still be loved when the cameras weren't rolling. And that's the thing: Francie caught Paul at the exact moment that the pillars of his Smile-For-The-Camera "Beatle" identity were collapsing; the dissolution of his relationships with John and Jane.

Whatever all this could possibly mean re: the breakup of the Lennon-McCartney partnership is a post for another time. What I wanna do instead is apply the level of speculation we usually reserve for that relationship to the endpoint of Paul and Jane's courtship.

So like, Paul and Jane: I know people are resistant to this specific POV, but I honestly just don't... think it was that deep? "Not deep", mind you, doesn't mean "not significant". Paul was obviously Jane's first love (u never forget), but the feeling I get from Paul's side (as a subconscious process I mean) is that Jane's importance was primarily as a lynchpin in his London Socialite persona. He loved her family, he loved the friend group, the artistic scene dating her gave him access to, as well as the leg up he got in the class system, etc. He liked to be the kind of guy who was dating Jane Asher. But I don't know that he was the guy who was dating Jane Asher, you get me? When people describe their "great love" they accidentally tell on them (Cynthia innocently describing Paul as being pleased to have her on his arm like a trophy; John: "it was an ordinary love scene"; Alistair Taylor noting that Paul was humiliated by the breakup). Paul's a serial monogamist who U-Hauls like a lesbian, of course, so he definitely took the relationship VERY seriously, but it's telling that all of his love songs to her were either about hitting a brick wall in arguments (certainly not dreamy, fond, yearning of "sunday morning fights about saturday night"; and occasionally expressing hints of class tension too), or completely non-descript Guy With A Guitar Trying To Get Laid shit. I could extrapolate a lot about Linda just from listening to McCartney I/RAM and the Wings discography, but 'And I Love Her' doesn't tell me a single thing about Jane besides that she's pretty. It could be about literally anyone the same way 'My Love' or 'Maybe I'm Amazed' could only be about his dynamic with Linda. Some of this is obviously the natural result of getting older and gaining emotional maturity; what I'm saying is that Paul's behaviour and self-expression in this relationship does not suggest to me that it was one in which his emotional maturity was able to develop or flourish.

I want to stress again that I don't think this belittles the significance of the relationship or makes it "bad" or "fake". Like, sometimes hot people just date for a while in their teens and twenties and love each other without necessarily unlocking their inner emotional cores, usually because they don't know how to. It's, like, fine. You need to experience relationships like that as stepping stones. I simply believe that this sort of front-facing social importance being prime in the romance is a major factor in why it ultimately didn't work (and probably in Linda's reported lingering jealousy of Jane, who wasn't just an ex, but also a symbol of the life Paul ditched to build a new identity w/ her, and sometimes still pined for). With Jane, Paul was dating the "right" kind of girl (didn't put out on the first date, erudite and middle class, as serious about her career as he was, a good "celebrity" match), but the relationship often wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. Francie's observation is that by 1968 it also wasn't doing what he needed it to do either. This is the overwhelming "mood" in her affair with Paul McCartney: that he needed something very badly from a romantic partner that he just was NOT getting, and Francie couldn't figure out what it was either:

(note that she means "queer" as in "mad", not "gay")

This was an EXTREMELY roundabout way of asking: well, what WAS it that Paul needed a relationship to do for him? And I think this is Francie's big, accidental insight. The most scandalous claim in 'Body Count' is that Paul told Francie that he hit Jane and it "turned her on".

I personally think this is p. absurd absent any real proof to back it up, but like, what is Francie actually saying HE'S saying here? If she's exaggerating or lying, she's trying to make it believable within the psychological parameters laid out, right? It's not an expression of some secret desire to dominate women she's accusing him of, but emotional disturbance and confusion at the idea that the woman he was with might like that sort of forceful, masculine violence more than his softer, feminine side, which he was - yeah, we all know it - deeply insecure about.

Regardless of whether specific details are true or false (and I think there's both in this story, all hyper-magnified to make it, y'know, a ~STORY~), I think what might be true is the emotional undertow of the retelling, that this all taken together is actually representative of the side of Paul McCartney she was exposed to, at a time when his public and private facades had both become unbearable to the point of cracking and the drug-fueled optimism of the Summer of Love was getting scrubbed off of everyone and everything. It's the Paul McCartney who eviscerated frogs because he was worried he was too "soft" for compulsory military service. The Paul who modelled his masculine teen behaviour off John Lennon's fake "Marlon Brando" swagger, but was actually more fond of the velvet "Oscar Wilde" interior.

What's SO FASCINATING about all this to me, is I deeply believe that one of the key factors in what makes The Beatles music so unique and compelling is that both the songwriters experienced psychological strain from the tension b/t their parochial socially-defensive "masculine" pride, and their sensitive "feminine" core, the latter of which they were able to express in the unburdened emotionality of their music. The reason I care about doing these totally unhinged psych analyses is because I do think it reveals something about the underpinnings of the music, as well as the reasons why the band was such a hysteria-inducing phenomenon (the rise of psychology, imo, is almost as important as the rise of industrialization as a defining factor of the modern and postmodern eras; mass psychology can be understood and wielded in precise ways, and The Beatles were one of the first empires built on that). The subconscious drives caused by this tension have been ENDLESSLY picked apart re: John's psyche, but Paul's "mirrored" issues are very under-discussed (mostly b/c he's still alive so people are a little more leery about putting him on the "couch" as a historical figure). 'Body Count', intentionally or not, painted a portrait to me of someone who was drowning in their own ill-fitting celebrity "suit", collapsing under the weight of "Being" "Paul McCartney". A guy who desperately needed some sort of space to be vulnerable without feeling emasculated for doing it. By 1968, there was no one in his life anymore - and maybe there hadn't been for a while, or ever - who was giving him this space.

In other words: the thing he needed to avoid going "stark raving queer and killing himself" was simply someone who would love him 'after the ball'.

EDIT: read the comments for further clarification and discussion! ;)

#/#//#///#////#/////#the beatles #mccharmley #analysis #long post #Talking About Paul The Way I Talk About John lmfao #Taking Tabloid Bullshit Seriously #(if not literally)#*gets out my fake spectacles and jumps into the psychiatry armchair*#idk if i laid out my thoughts v well here but i hope it satisfied all the people who asked #i also tried to warn what genre of post it was for those who hate this kinda thing lol #i feel like i have more to say re: how toxic 'The Beatle' facade got for all of them by this point #and paul and john's mirrored post-india breakdowns #but francie's perspective is specifically on how it felt to be the girl he used to divebomb his relationship with jane asher SO

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