i’m just a ghost who likes to read

I get in theory why people complain about het ships or whatever, I get wanting to watch queer media I really do, but I guess where y’all lose me is like. I saw some asshole on a post about Sinners complaining it was “hetslop”—this person was specifically doing so while also claiming Remmick was a queer character and thus they were justified in caring more about him than the Black protagonists. which is a whole other disgusting can of worms that has been well addressed by others at this point. but even in the absence of that part of the argument, like, no, i actually don’t think that a hunger for queer stories is an especially good excuse to deride and dismiss a piece of landmark Black filmmaking, especially as a non-Black person. I have a post that’s been going around encouraging folks to engage with more Native stories and characters, and I had someone come onto that post saying in the tags that they’d need these stories to be queer in order to care. and I just think that, you know, sucks! like obviously as a queer Native I also want to see more of those stories too. but idk how else to put it other than to say that Black people and people of color shouldn’t have to be like you in order for you to care about our narratives and experiences. and I think some of y’all are using this disdain for heterosexuality as a cover for your unexamined racial biases. it’s not okay to be racist to people just because those people happen to be straight, and you continue to be white before you are queer.

on an even more basic level than that, also, I simply just think some of y’all NEED to learn how to interact with media and storytelling without ships and fandom in mind. like if not being able to write fic about two men kissing is genuinely going to be a dealbreaker for you I think that’s actually something you need to work on within yourself because at that point I think you’re no longer really interacting with art and themes and narrative so much as just kind of playing with toys. which is, like, fine I guess. have fun. but it wouldn’t kill you to disengage from that from time to time. especially if would allow you to actually appreciate rich and deeply moving cultural stories from communities of color that you desperately need to learn how to see as human

“Since it is so likely that (children) will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.” ― C.S. Lewis

i think it’s really amazing how total strangers who have nothing in common but their shared love of a work of fiction will come together across distances and dedicate their time and energy working collaboratively to build an extensive, richly detailed fanon that completely fucking sucks

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submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to the sheep it kills wolves for

Incredibly violent take of mine but I actually don’t think you need to relate to a story in any way to enjoy it. You can enjoy a story even if you can’t point at a character and insert some aspect of your personality or identity into them. In fact I would argue the need for a character like that to be present in every single story you experience is a sign of stunted growth.

Making King Arthur English was so evil of Thomas Malory. English King Arthur, replacing the invading Saxons with Muslims, erasing Galehaut and Lancelot’s relationship that was the foil to Arthur and Guinevere’s relationship. I hate this guy so much. It’s crazy he was in jail for treason or attempted murder and not locked up for writing criminally bad English fanfiction. And then his shitty dicksucking English monarchy propaganda piece became the defining Arthurian work for 500 fucking years. I hate this guy more and more the deeper I get into Arthuriana.

Le Morte d'Arthur is to the 15th century English monarchy what Marvel movies are to the American military today.

i find the best young children's books maintain bits of disquieting melancholy even in their final state of narrative satiety (or rarely, in their lack thereof). abel's island, where the wild things are, harold and the purple crayon, the little prince, my father's dragon, the giving tree, the velveteen rabbit, the last unicorn, all these are my long held or since rediscovered favorites. i remember in childhood a feeling of always 'leaving something behind' was never too far away, pangs of formless regret yet unbounded by a matured structuring of direction and intention. it was very different from pointed sadness or grief so readily depicted elsewhere. the books which understood and confirmed the verity of these inexpressible feelings were magnetic, and continue to be so even as the emotion itself has been partitioned into a kind of nostalgic obscurity by time and experience.

robin hobb increases fitz's and therefore my suffering exponentially each book but she also increases the sickeningly fucked levels of faggotry at a proportionate rate. so we stay locked in uneasy checkmate