AnnaofAza

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Read a fucking comic man

Fucking right.

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the sunlight on our skin, and all the other things that make us human

“your friend is dead, and their corpse is inhabited by something only you can see for what it truly is" is already good horror. but "you begin to love the thing that wears their face"? the blasphemy of it. terror turning into desire. grief turning into longing. being enticed by what should repel you. it twists the knife deeper, because the horror is not based on deception anymore. the fear comes from recognizing the monster in its raw form and finding beauty there. you're not clinging to scraps of your friend, you're surrendering to something other, something wrong, and loving it. you're not holding onto a ghost of the past, it’s the monster itself that you choose

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You're even more of a brat than I am.

i think the single most unrealistic part of superman 2025 was when it was announced that superman's kryptonian parents told him to have a harem and it was exclusively met with fear and disgust. I KNOW there would've been at least five dedicated subreddits that would have thousands being like HOW TO GET INTO SUPERMAN'S HAREM PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ONE SHOT BIG BLUE THAT'S ALL I'M ASKING

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An early 20th century postcard against the coercion of motherhood and promoting the usage of contraception.

She is going to hit that Christian baby for a home run.

The Summer Hikaru Died hit me wayyy harder than I was expecting. I'm not that good at putting things into words, but its depiction of growing up queer in a rural community felt so real.

Yoshiki is repressed, stifled by the community he grew up in. He wants so badly to leave, to go to the big city, to finally be free of all the nosiness that comes from living in a small town. In some panels, the sounds of the cicadas are written in every possible blank space, giving a suffocating feeling.

Something I haven't seen people talk about yet (though I'm sure it exists) is all the discussion about Yoshiki becoming "mixed up" by spending time with 'Hikaru.' At the end of chapter 4, Rie tells Yoshiki to put some distance between himself and 'Hikaru' before he becomes mixed up. And obviously, she's talking in the sense of the supernatural, but it reminded me somewhat of my own experiences. In middle school I was friends with someone that was heavily rumored, but not confirmed to be a lesbian (she was, but closeted.) My parents told me to keep my distance from her, because they didn't want me getting "involved in the wrong crowd" or "influenced."

Just as my only refuge from growing up this way was my small group of closeted queer friends who shared my struggles, Yoshiki was safe with Hikaru. Except now, Hikaru is gone, replaced by a mimic that uses his body and retained his memories. He's gone, but he's not gone.

In TSHD, queerness and the supernatural are intertwined. Just as 'Hikaru' must hide what he truly is, Yoshiki must as well. Just as 'Hikaru' is a monster, Yoshiki views himself as a monster because of his upbringing. Getting involved with the supernatural is dangerous, just as how being openly queer in a homophobic area is dangerous. Both are things that people fear, that must be hidden in order to stay safe.

Anyway this is long and rambly but I just needed to share. I obviously knew that TSHD had topics of both horror and queerness before reading, but I didn't expect it to affect me as much as it did.

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i know its been a while since it came out but im preeetty sure this is exactly how CATWS ended

(tip jar! // comms status)

Why Gandalf Never Married by Terry Pratchett ansible.co.uk
fabledquill

a BRILLIANT read, and even more incentive for me to make my own wizards trope-defying and excellent.

God it’s fascinating to look at the timestamp on this one and then realize that Pratchett went on to write his Witches Series and Granny Weatherwax, who’s strong and fierce and brilliant and austere and so achingly, bitterly, intensely good. I think Granny Weatherwax would give Gandalf a hard look and Gandalf would remember he had a very urgent appointment three shires away and stroll off really fast. 

Holy fuck, everybody go read this right now. 

Pratchett is one of the people whose work is not only hilarious, but legitimately brilliant. I learned so much from reading his books. Even this talk is peppered with the kind of thing that makes you snort out loud and get stared at by coworkers: 

No wonder witches were always portrayed as toothless — it was living in a 90,000 calorie house that did it. You’d hear a noise in the night and it’d be the local kids, eating the doorknob.

And he fucking nails the witch/wizard dichotomy. Wizards = wise, powerful, organized, educated; witches = crones who give you warts. The Tiffany Aching series addresses this directly, as do the regular Discworld books focusing on the Lancre witches. Like Roach says, Granny Weatherwax is achingly, bitterly, intensely good, and that’s partly because she’s constantly aware of how easy it would be to be bad. How someone has to do the mucky jobs and help the obnoxious and stupid and never, ever take credit for anything you didn’t do; how the hardest thing is to stay balanced just on the edge between extremes, maintain that equilibrium, do what needs to be done no matter how awful or difficult it may be. Wizards never have to think about this. They just forge straight ahead, eating big dinners and squabbling amongst themselves and taking their power for granted.

Come to think of it, that’s one of the most significant divisions of power in Discworld: the men all gang up into this big elitist mob and loll around indolently, specifically not doing magic. Their magic is so powerful and dangerous that it’s a better use of their time to all keep each other down, all the wizard books basically revolve around ‘Oh no, someone’s doing magic, we’d better stomp them flat and then go home for second breakfast’. They keep the world from turning inside out but not much more than that, and they’re kind of a bunch of assholes about it too. Meanwhile the witches are just grimly slogging along, delivering babies and rousting out vampires and changing compresses, like, they stake out territories and then take care of everyone in it… while everyone still thinks that wizards are respectable and witches are shady. 

The line about equal rites killed me, though. The insightful commentary (on the internet no less) here helped buffer that.

Discworld Heritage Post

It’s the difference between status and value. Who does the necessary work, and who takes the credit. Who the world would actually fall apart without, and who reaps the rewards of being considered important.

There’s gender in it, but shades of poor-and-rich as well.

What’s marvellous I think here is that Pratchett’s criticism of Le Guin, on Earthsea, was made in 1985 - and in 1990, she wrote Tehanu, which is a fantastic indictment of the sexism and misogyny of the earlier Earthsea books. Doesn’t meant she saw this, she probably didn’t - her own unease with the earlier Earthsea books was evident in other places - but it’s what Pratchett himself is saying, reality creates fantasy creates reality.

Terry being brilliant, and read the comments.

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I'm not seeing a downside with that last review

constantly making airy offhand comments to my preferred younger son about how he’s next in line for the throne after his brother but he still hasn’t killed my detested firstborn for me. kids these days have no fucking initiative.

I keep sending them off on “boar hunts” together and wouldn’t you know? they keep coming back after with big smiles and boar heads and the unmistakable stench of brotherly camaraderie. what sick sad days are these!

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two types of advisors

intactics-deactivated20250505

becoming a monk and marrying God due to tragic and unrealistic desire for a 24/7 sadomasochistic relationship with a morally flawless top

intactics-deactivated20250505

@theoreticallysensible yesssssssssssss

HOLY SONNET XIV

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but also, consider the following:

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&

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[ID: Three poems.

  1. (By John Donne)

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

2. "In a Dark Time" by Theodore Roethke

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood—
A lord of nature weeping to a tree.
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.

What’s madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day’s on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall.
That place among the rocks—is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is—
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

3. (By Dylan Thomas, 1914-1953)

My hero bares his nerves along my wrist
That rules from wrist to shoulder,
Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost,
Leans on my mortal ruler,
The proud spine spurning turn and twist.

And these poor nerves so wired to the skull
Ache on the lovelorn paper
I hug to love with my unruly scrawl
That utters all love hunger
And tells the page the empty ill.

My hero bares my side and sees his heart
Tread, like a naked Venus,
The beach of flesh, and wind her bloodred plait;
Stripping my loin of promise,
He promises a secret heat.

He holds the wire from the box of nerves
Praising the mortal error
Of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves,
And the hunger's emperor;
He pulls the chain, the cistern moves. End ID]

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Superman (2025) dir. James Gunn

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David Corenswet as Superman/Clark Kent

Superman (2025) dir. James Gunn

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