So I see folks pointing out that Louis' circle A tattoo is more likely an aesthetic choice than an announcement of a political commitment to anarchism, and saying basically that that maybe makes him a bit of a poser and I mean- I GUESS. But I don't like to look at things that way and I don't think it's useful. As I see it the subversive sexiness of the symbols of resistance have ALWAYS been gateways for people who are drawn to the struggle in vague ways and that's GOOD. Aligning yourself with those values is good no matter the reason, in my book, especially given the wretched options available out there, but also the journey doesn't necessarily stop there. Gatekeeping queerness victimizes people who are just trying things out and starting to discover that it may run deeper than just trying on a new look who should instead be welcomed and helped along their path, and I fail to see how gatekeeping political affiliations is any different (plus how counterproductive to actual movement building is that?)
ANYWAY. What I really want to say about Louis is that while I KNOW that Louis is probably not secretly a theory reading anti-state communalist anarchist, I think that actually Louis' optimism and idealism (and his unwavering commitment to allying himself with the working class and embracing those roots) are a perfect fit for the philosophy and always have been. I know that anarchism is mostly understood as being about throwing molotov cocktails and fighting the state (and the allure of its symbols are that they signify this, a terrific aesthetic for him to choose to sign on with in my book), but that's honestly largely cartoonish stereotyping that comes directly from anti-anarchist state propaganda. That resistance is necessary in this hellscape of oppression we live in and is super important, but in its heart anarchism is only about the state in that the state and capitalism currently stands in the way of its goals. The whole point of anarchism is that it's NOT about the state! It's about being able to imagine something better than a state, it's about how we live and about how we SHOULD live, it's about HOPE and picturing something utopian and something free of the ways capitalism pits us against one another! What could be more Louis than that?
"I need you and you need me and I love that" is as beautiful a way of talking about the cornerstone of anarchism that is mutual aid as any long winded essay I've read (even if what he meant was contextually different), and I think when he talks again and again about how special the space fans have made around him is he is expressing an intuitive understanding of the importance of autonomous zones, places and moments outside of the shitty life imposed on us by the system (also a huge part of anarchist thought). Maybe I'm just being an optimist but I think that Louis DOES understand that caring for people and wanting self-determination and freedom for all and allying himself with the working class involves a certain amount of resistance to and positioning yourself in opposition to the state. Thinking the symbols of smashing that state are cool isn't meaningless; it's a CHOICE. There are other cool symbols out there and I just happen to think that feeling a resonance with certain ones is something in and of itself, even if at this moment he does not choose to start a fight with the media about it all.
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me: has had one crush in my life
also me: "WHY WOULD YOU EVER KIIIIIIIIIIISS ME IM NOT EVEN HALF AS PREEEEEETY"
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Candid
A lil photographer!shuji fluff for the dash. V short and unedited bc I need to clean my drafts up p badly so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
It started as a joke.
"Take a picture Shuji, it'll last longer." You'd said as you handed him his first camera. It was your uncle's old Polaroid camera. Still loaded with some forgotten color 600 film.
You'd meant to tease him for the unrelenting feeling of his eyes on you. You'd meant for it to be playful and sassy, to suit the banter you two enjoyed daily.
What you got instead was Shuji carrying the damned thing like a bespoke albatross around his neck. You were met with bright eyes and a huge hand around your wrist, insistent that you take an adventure right then to take his new treasure for a spin.
Months after the initial gift, you were routinely cutting your senior classes to accompany Shuji on trips or getting wrapped into his hijinx to acquire more precious film. You found yourself squatting in alleyways flapping developing film around as if it'd make the image appear faster, laughing with your best friend.
You gifted him the camera not knowing what it'd do to his life. Not realizing it'd give him a purpose and an outlet. You gave it to him as a joke of a gift never expecting anything to come of it and certainly expecting nothing in return.
A year to the day, however, your best friend handed you a little bundle of photos tied together with a length of twine. Unravelling his scant wrapping, you were met with white plastic lined square photos of your likeness...
Your head rested on your folded forearms and all that was visible of your face was a slight pout and your closed eye. Sunlight washed over your napping form and bathed you in a romantic glow.
A photo of your face scrunched up with Shuji's hand imprinted with punishment pinching your cheek like a proud father, smoke curling all around you after your bestie had blown it in your face.
Your back, arms spread wide and chest puffed to the sky with accomplishment as you stood a top a cliff.
A hazy photo, half blocked by two of your fingers though traces of doubles of the image further obscure your face. Your nose is scrunched in annoyance, eyes narrowed as you try and snatch Shuji's camera. You swear you can hear his laugh.
At the bottom of the last photo in the collection of candids, in Shuji's signature scrawl you read: still doesn't last long enough.
You couldn't help the way warmth creeped from your cheeks to your ears. This was a surprise. It shouldn't have been, you supposed, not with how Shuji's eyes were always glued to you, or given how inseparable you lot were. You knew the pair of you were close, even had an inkling that you loved each other but neither of you would say it in so many words. You'd never crossed that line.
Shuji shifted his weight to his other foot. He opened his mouth, but his apologies for being weird died on his tongue when you cut him off, speaking through a cheeky smile. "When did you get so cheesy Shuji?" Without waiting for an answer, you threw your arms around his shoulders to draw him in for a long, long overdue kiss.
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imagine imagiiiine the victim of violence - rather than resorting to violence themselves to protect themselves, because they feel it is the only option to survive, they will tell themselves that it is, as though their existence is a spinning wheel that inevitably had to lead back to this, thereby perpetuating the very cycle of abuse in which they suffered so much - instead trying so hard to avoid perpetuating violence, refusing to so much as look at the wheel for fear of it moving, cowering away from their own their own wounded form throwing a sheet over it and another one and another putting it over there, trying to soften the blow of every touch, retreating so, so hard into supposed safety in order to escape the violence that they go too far the other way somehow, thereby perpetuating the very cycle of abuse in which they suffered entirely counterintuitive to their own paralysing fear. the tragedy. mr okiura, man that you are.
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