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⦻ professional 🌚 eater! ⦻ πŸ‰

@gyaruguy111 / gyaruguy111.tumblr.com

No pronouns/one/ones πŸ§™πŸ½β€β™‚οΈπŸ§™πŸ½β€β™‚οΈπŸ§™πŸ½β€β™‚οΈπŸ§™πŸ½β€β™‚οΈ 8teen & ⚫ & πŸͺΆ πŸ“Œ ⚧️queer & πŸ³οΈβ€βš§οΈ & aroace & poly & butch quality leftist πŸ“Œ 🌚

Friendly reminder that the living things around you deserve respect just as much as you do.

The spider doesn't know that your house is your house or that any land is off limits at all.

The deer doesn't know that there are roads stripped out daring it to die. It only knows that it needs to cross the earth to get to another part of the earth.

The mouse doesn't know that a kitchen isn't where it's supposed to be. It doesn't know that it isn't supposed to eat the food on the ground it scurried across.

The fly doesn't know that touching your food is wrong. It knows feeding and staying fed. The same as we all do.

Lving things besides humans don't owe humans getting out of the way. Be mindful of the dead rabbit in the road. It ate crop and lived as you did. The only thing it lacked was a human body.

(We won't get into bacteria and organisms smaller than the eye can see for today but they're worth talking about).

Sometimes growing up is being given a large left boot all polished and pretty but nothing else and being told that "You'll grow into it someday." they've given you nothin' but a boot and expect you to hobble around barefoot until it fits.

So you stuff it in your drawer for that someday while walking around barefoot waiting for the day the shoe fits. It'll fit you someday. And you'll fit it back someday. Someday.

You open the drawer over and over again thinking "Maybe today is the day." but it isn't. You sit there wanting to cry because your feet are sore and tired with your skin begging to finally fall off the bone and you've been waiting for the damn shoe to fit all this time. To just fucking fit you. Fucking fit you because you were told it would and you've only those words to trust.

Years go by, and the shoe still don't fit. Either it's too big or too small for your foot. You've torn holes into it trying to force it to fit your foot and it's holding on by string and leather. It's far from the perfect boot it was when you first got it. And a whole lot closer to a single torn sole of a boot left in some small town backyard.

All you know is that it'll fit you. And you've had nothing but the focused pain in your scabbed feet to carry you around. It has to fit you. It has to. It has to or you've spent all this time waiting for it to fit and it never will. Then you focus on the never will part. Really, what if it never does? If it never does and you've spent all the time in pain waiting and waiting and waiting for nothing? Dese God you hope that's not it.

It's been decades and there's all kinds of shoe stores in your area with good boots looking real pretty in the windows. You hold out. You refuse to buy them because your boot WILL fit. It WILL. You go home and look in that drawer one last time. Dig the left boot out and put it on your begging left foot. There are two ways this can go although those two ways can lead to different things in the future. Way one, it doesn't fit. Again, it's too small or too big. You sit there frustrated because its been decades and you're not sure if the boot has decades more to go based on how worn it is. You're not sure if your feet have decades based on how worn they are. You're not sure if you have decades. Now what? Way two, it does fit. It finally fits. But, you only have a single left boot. You've waited all this time and there's no right boot to fit your worn and torn right foot. Now what?

Those two ways can lead to plenty of now whats. You waited decades for a single boot to fit you and for a single foot to fit it back. And it was all in vain. You have no shoe you can depend on now because it's all frilled leather and frayed lace that's one try on away from turning into dust. And it was all in vain. You wonder for the rest of your life about that boot. There'll be plenty of other boots and but they'll never be that boot. Solace is both found and not found.

That's it. Sometimes your childhood is a boot that you're waiting to fit so bad it becomes a religion and that's all you have to go off of. This is a 10:38 rant so yeah. Yeah that's it.

Growing up neurodivergent coupled with abuse (mainly emotional) definitely shaped the way I see myself gender wise and existing in general.

I felt like a frankenweenie of a person. A stitched up creature in the shape of a dog that wore a shirt and pants.

It felt like my main abuser, my creator, didn't want me to be a human. That for some reason other children were stitched up with love and fresh flesh in the shape of a human while I was stitched up and patched together with wooden screws and dead flesh in the shape of a dog. And when people asked what the smell was she always pointed to me as if I'd chosen to wear a rotten suit.

I sat stuffed with organs that didn't belong at the table with my creator and others like her and tried to pretend I was made up of the same stuff. Everyone tried to pretend too. But there's a difference between a human's company and a dog. My tail always hit the table in loud thumps until it fell off and I would crank my head to chew while everyone else ate normally. Something always ruined the already horrible disguise. And then the whole table would point out how truly horrible the disguise was. I would retreat to the ground with my ears folded in.

My creator wasn't afraid of telling me how the green mold and cracking of bones were becoming too much of a problem. Most days it felt like she had given up on even looking at me. She had a dog for a child and I knew myself that I was in no way better than a real child. I was a dog. No dog made up for a human. And no human wanted a dog for a child.

I see myself in the mirror and try to imagine a version of myself that's human. A womanly me, a manly me. But I still end up poking and shoving that dead flesh back into its stitch before I get dressed. I know I'm human. I know I'm human, but here's a disconnect between the words me and human.

(Most of my posts have been me talking about my experience with being neurodivergent and having cptsd since Tumblr for me is a place where a bunch of skrunkly humans join and be skrunkly humans for however long this site stands up so here's another post about that.)

Anyways, that's it for tonight I got to scroll all the way back through my last searched tag since my Tumble crashed.

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I think people who add scars to character designs just to 'make them more interesting' need to stop being absolute cowards when it comes to keloids or actually realistic burns

This was forever ago but I watched a version of Beauty and the Beast on Amazon and they really amped up the character playing the beasts' disfigurement and I was pretty disappointed when they didn't really portray it better and gave him barely a quarter of his face's worth of a scar.

They had him wear a mask and everything and I feel it might really be because of the budget that it wasn't done better and the fact that disabilities for disabled people might seem worse to them than others since they're entitled to the way they feel towards it but they even had the cast act as if he was some horrid beast when he had barely any difference from before he was injured (like Nicholas Cage in Birdie, he couldn't even look at his face and it was suspected that it might not have been a major injury but it was amped up for him personally to the point he couldn't even show it).

I'm not good at wording this stuff but I wish people gave characters more than a single scar to signify a serious injury or even a small one like a piercing not healing well and causing keloids. That's all, that's the post.

Sometimes I look back at my memories and think "Yeah no, my childhood wasn't that much it was pretty normal."

Cue someone asking me what it was like and the complete dread that passes through me as my brain intentionally tries to sift through the river for normal memories because you don't share some messed up shit with most strangers unless ya' want to and everytime it comes up really blurred or practically nonexistent. And that makes me realize that yeah, my childhood wasn't actually normal. Does someone with a normal childhood need to search every nook and cranny of their memories for a single memory that they can comfortably share with someone and come up short each time? Probably not.

Alone I can convince myself of having a normal enough childhood but that's because my brain accepts a single moment out of hundreds that was relatively normal enough to count and then immediately takes it as a "Yeah that works, it was a good childhood."

Hell my brain can barely remember most of my childhood not because of a lack of memory but because it just won't show up. I search and search and it's all a blurry mass of "Yeah I was alive at that point." But like, that's not what I'm looking for. I'm looking for what I did when I was alive. But yeah, brains are flippin' weird.

I will never understand the narrative that people have to stay the same throughout their life when it comes to orientations and identities.

Hey, it's almost like people change constantly and things don't have to be set in stone?

Isn't the expectation that we change and stay changing since we have plenty of life lived and unlived?

People can be queer and not have their identities be forever, cishet people always question about whether queer people are sure about it or if they'll change their mind and it's like, maybe, so what? How is that the worst thing? When it comes to genderqueer people most understand surgery and what it means in the long run but so what? What's it to you, the person that isn't in their skin? Dear gods give it a rest.

My favorite dynamics firstly include lovers to friends except the relationship is stronger and or friendly and does not come in the way of any relationships they have after (points if they're aspec).

Secondly, people who decide to raise children together platonically biological, adopted, or so and so (points again if they have separate lives that do not interfere with each other, spend literally every waking moment together, or live the world's best and ideal romantic and sexual relationship would seem but aren't romantically involved).

Thirdly, "I have a car." "Cool, I've been wanting to leave this place since the moment I breathed the air here want to hop in and ditch?" "Yeah that works." (It's leaving home for bigger and better things, that's it).

Beau is Afraid to me is a perfect representation of the abusive relationship between a parent and child.

The panic attacks and disassociation are no new story to the people watching it and at times it feels like it's happening exactly to you the way the movie draws you into the shoes of Beau himself.

The phone call between Beau and Mona is perfectly drawn out. The nerve in Beau's voice and the immediate disconnect between them emotionally are perfectly done. The silence tells you what you need to know, Beau is terrified of Mona and Mona has a hate for Beau that she can't even grasp herself. Disappointment not at the situation but at Beau. At Beau simply because he's her son and she's his mother.

When Beau hears Mona finally admit to hating Beau we see Beau snap. He loves his mother, he believes that she loves him even when he confesses his frustration and concerns in their relationship. He hears the person that practically controls his throughts, his emotions, his living situation, what stree he's on, the money he spends, and even the color shirt he wears hates him. He believes that Mona was protecting him from the outside world in some way he's finally understood that his mother wasn't protecting him. Mona wasn't helping him and she didn't even love him. He trusted her with his life and she hated him. He goes from kissing her legs begging to be forgiven to do anything to be forgiven to choking her.

When Beau is screaming for help from anyone, literally anyone. We see his eyes perfectly reflect the moment he knows no one will help him. He's trapped dying the death his mother planned for him with his feet stuck in the boards and not a single person believes that he's worthy of help or willing to help him. He's completely and utterly alone. Like the version of himself that was curled up crying on the forest ground because he searched for a home and comfort (interpreted family being comfort for him in general) in every corner of the world that the okay in his head could think of and it left him cold and hungry with just the hat on his head. Take this moment as a parallel to him sinking in the boat. He's searched in all the places his mother allowed him to search for some form of comfort from her and he's left without her love or her help in the end. Deprived of love, blamed by his mother for every emotion she felt raising him and accused of not caring at all. The masked woman telling him about his sins and guilts could be the voice in his head that agrees with his mother or the voice of his mother in general. Finally, we see him drowning and struggling under the pressure he's been convinced he created for himself and the story ends. And it's the perfect ending. It's so fucking horrible and perfect at the same time. My fucking God this movie was amazing.

Shoutout to all the children of parents that are abusive one way or another that sat their parents down and watched a movie that was a clear plea for those parents to realize that you needed them to be more of a parent and not an abuser. Sorry if it failed and congrats if it changed something if anything. Y'all did a good job speaking out even if it wasn't your voice speaking!

My second post about Beau is Afraid tonight an I have to say. It does an amazing job reminding you of all the things you went through with an emotionally abusive and or abusive in general parent and especially mother.

You sit in your seat thinking and thinking and then, the thinking stops. You'll go about your life forgetting it all again to protect yourself when you aren't protecting yourself at all. Because those habits are as rooted in you as the stains from the pumpkin smashed on gravel and left for weeks. You'll go back to a version of your mind before remembering and when someone asks about your childhood and your parents in particular you'll most likely say "I dunno." or brush it off in general. You can't take the time to remember right now and you don't know if you're actually remembering it right or if it's all true. You don't want to face the truth. If you're wrong you're accusing your parent of something you can't take back. Because your parent is your parent and you shouldn't feel that way because they did so much for you so bury it. Bury it deep or it'll come up and something bad will happen because it always does. A bit of a rant that went of the rails but yeah. Good job to everyone that worked on it y'all did bomb!

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beau is afraid is uncanny in separating who understands or has experienced cPTSD and who has not because those who have not think beau is just irrationally anxious and β€œtoo afraid to live his life”. meanwhile those with cPTSD are like um he actually was abused emotionally/mentally/physically (medications)/sexually/financially his entire life and has learned pattern recognition but go off i guess? like these are the same people who think once someone is 18 they have full control over their lives, so they don’t understand why disobeying a parent might result in homelessness which may result in disabling illness which may result in death lolol. they can’t put those chains together because they weren’t constantly abused and punished. they’re the same people who don’t get why gypsy rose didn’t just β€œtell the police” (even tho she did try that).

another scene i particularly liked was the mother screaming at beau for not making decisions. for needing clarity or asking questions. reminds me of my entire autistic childhood and adults yelling at me. still makes no sense.

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Beau is Afraid is the movie I have been waiting for
!Spoilers Ahead! *LONG POST*
TW: Child Abuse, Gaslighting, Narcissistic Abuse, Strangulation, Discussions of Severe Anxiety

Like many people I knew Ari Aster as the guy who made Hereditary and Midsommar. Weird and trauma focused horror and that is definitely what Beau is Afraid is classified as, but it is nothing like his previous films.

To summarize, Beau is afraid starts off with Beau meeting his therapist (well it literally starts with Beau being born but i digress) and here we learn that Beau has a severe and crippling anxiety disorder. From the moment Beau starts talking about his mother I knew exactly what this movie was going to be about(though i don’t think anyone could guess the plot). We see that he is planning to visit his mother the next day because it’s the anniversary of his fathers death. Due to unforeseen circumstances Beau oversleeps and as he is rushing his keys get stolen out of his door along with his suitcase. Beau calls to tell his mom just wanting to tell her what’s happened and as she began to speak I got immediately triggered. You can see him sink into a shell of himself as she tries to make him feel guilty for thinking he should stay at home since someone has access to his apartment. She hangs up on him and Beau begins to lose it a little bit.

A lot of things domino fall and this leads to Beau getting locked out of his apartment (this also leads to the first time we see Beau experience something i’ve never seen so perfectly portrayed in a film. executive dysfunction. and it happens multiple times, he simply freezes in place even though he knows he should move. Part of it is definitely his anxiety as he is afraid to move because thats a decision and he doesn’t want the responsibility of what comes after a decision)and learning that his mother was killed by a falling chandelier. Then we see him get hit by a car. He ends up in the care of a family and long story short he has to run from them and ends up in the woods with a theatre troupe.

This is important because we learn that Beau’s biggest dream is to simply have a job and home of his own with a family that loves him. That’s his perfect future, but even as he’s seeing it playing out his kind can’t help but conjure up the worst case scenarios. We also see it repeated here that Beau can’t have kids because he can’t have sex because of a genetic heart murmur that killed his father. After Beau is separated from the theatre troupe he makes his way to his mothers house(though he should have been healing after being hit by a car and being stabbed his ONLY CONCERN was his mother not being humiliated by not being buried). When he sees her body he isn’t at peace yet but he lays down and gets his first night of good rest in days. When he wakes up he is greeted with his old friend Elaine who asked him to wait for her and he did. Long story short, Beau and her have sex. He is under the direct impression he is going to die when this happens.

But he doesn’t. However, Elaine does. He is rightfully terrified and cowers in fear until the music Elaine was playing suddenly shuts off and he looks up to find none other than his mother staring back at him. She faked her death to get him home and then tries to turn this on Beau saying he couldn’t wait for her to die, when Beau admits he knew she was alive because of the birthmark on the hands on the body. But she’s not done. Out of the shadows steps Beau’s therapist as his mother begins playing a recording of one of his sessions where Beau admits reluctantly that he felt his mothers love was conditional. Since he feels like he has nothing to lose he chooses to finally confront his mother about the dream he has where he sees an identical version of himself ask about his father because Beau isn’t brave enough and he asks where his father is.

His mother takes him to the attic from the dream and tells him to go up there telling him it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory. There Beau meets his twin brother and his father(it’s a lot more batshit than this but that’s the gist of it). He begs to go back down and his mother finally lets him and he LITERALLY KISSES HER LEGS telling her he’s sorry. But she’s still not done. She goes on a whole tirade about how her mother blamed her for her mothers mistakes completely missing how she’s doing the same to Beau. She continues to berate him until she finally says what she means. She hates Beau. And at that point Beau puts his hands around her throat, strangling her. He eventually comes to his senses and lets her go, shocked at his own actions, but the damage has been done, she collapses and dies.

Beau leaves the house the look of shock frozen on his face and he reaches a motorboat on his mothers private little beach. He starts the motor and begins to drive the boat towards a cavern. For the first time the whole movie Beau seems like he might no longer be afraid. Until the motor mysteriously sputters and here’s where shit gets VERY REAL. SERIOUSLY IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE MOVIE GO WATCH IT BEFORE CONTINUING.

Beau is sitting in darkness for a few seconds and suddenly this cavern is flooded with light and he sees no, it’s not actually a cavern at all. It’s a stadium filled with people. They are all watching him. Through his (and the audiences) confusion a voice booms from a microphone. When Beau finds the source he is shocked to see that it is coming from a man on a mini stage high in the stadium sitting next to his mother. From a giant 4 sided jumbotron video plays of moments from Beau’s life dating back to when he was NINE. YEARS. OLD. All of of which is taken out of context. Beau’s only β€œdefense” is a shitty lawyer who has yell because he wasn’t given a microphone and even when he is heard and things his lawyer says are reasonable his mothers lawyer simply writes it off and moves onto the next thing he’s β€œdone wrong”. (To me this represents all of the times Beau tried to reason with his mother and make her see his side before he just had to succumb to her will for survival, because you can’t reason with a narcissist.) When his defense is literally thrown from his stage and dies on a steep rock Beau is left to defend himself. Through his anxiety and fear he still tries to make them see his side, but Beau is found to be guilty. He never really loved his mother, he was a manipulative child who took from her and never gave anything back.

As this is all coming to a close the motor on the boat begins to flame and the boat begins to sink. Beau is begging, pleading, screaming, for his mother as she watches him in distress. As the entire arena of people watches him struggling and does nothing. We can see the exact moment Beau succumbs to his fate, he says nothing and for the first time in the whole film his shoulders droop. All of his anxiety is gone. He knows his mother won’t help him, that no one will. And the look that crosses his face is one I understood so deeply. One of anger that he dedicated his life to this woman, one of realization that he couldn’t trust anyone, one of sadness that he was truly alone. And I relate to that so deeply.

I remember people talking about the relationship between Joy and Evelyn in Everything Everywhere All at Once and while I definitely relate to their story somewhat there was something missing and I didn’t know what it was until I saw Beau is Afraid.

On the one hand there’s the constant twisting of Beau’s actions that is particularly triggering to me. Him living in one of his mothers apartment buildings and using a card with her money is turned on him when for one thing the apartment is shitty and he is constantly in fear for his life. Number 2 the card was given to him by her to use, because Beau is literally agoraphobic because of HER ACTIONS. He can’t hold down a job even if he wanted to. His whole life is his therapist and his home. I find it so strange that mothers like this will stifle any interest their child has that falls outside of what they want for them and literally block them from opportunities to advance, but then get upset when their kids aren’t able to function on their own as adults.

But that’s not the main thing that stuck out to me and made me realize I had been carrying this massive weight with me I couldn’t explain.

This ever present fear I felt living with my mother that just never left. This feeling that she was always watching me even when I wasn’t with her and that I couldn’t trust anyone because they would turn them against me eventually. That I couldn’t say bad things about her because the words would find their way back to her. When I was actively going to therapy I would triple check my phone to make sure I didn’t accidentally dial her and she could every word I was saying. That’s how terrifying it feels and I’ve never seen that captured on screen. Tears were streaming down my face as I watched Beau’s cries be ignored and as people just let him die. In the silence of the theater I simply stared at the place Beau had been and thought β€œyou have to leave, you have to get out.”

!End of Spoilers!

It’s a great movie and I think you should definitely go see it if you have 3 hours to spare. I’ve personally seen it twice and I relate so much to Beau it’s kinda scary. Sorry for this long post I wonder what anyone who saw it thinks though, i’d like to hear new perspectives. Now time to watch Queen Charlotte for something lighter 😭

Very late but that second to last paragraph is too relatable my gods. They really captured that dread and constant nerve of never actually being alone. Never having a single breath be without the anxiety of what could come if you fucked up or accidentally fell into the same room as a mind reader that somehow heard everything you were thinking and would relay it to whatever person you wanted to have hear it the least. This movie traumatized me in a good way.

Beau is Afraid personal analysis:

From someone that can't put thoughts in order, is neurodivergen, and expects both nothing and everything from a film.

Just started watching Beau is Afraid and here's me just throwing interpretations and a shitty analysis into the void of Tumblr as I'm watching it!

It should be noted that the subtitles aren't working for me so a lot of the audio is hard to understand for me if I'm not absolutely invested. You should also expect some comparisons to Beau's life and mine since mommy issues don't wait for anyone besides the mother who throws them onto you!

In all honesty, I wanted to watch this movie when I first saw the poster but I have the habit of adding movies to my watchlist and then forgetting them if it isn't in my face 24/7 so it got benched. I finally picked it up because of Joaquin Phoenix and the fact that I wasn't mentally prepared for the Joker sequel. During the movie it did an amazing job of stopping my gawking at Joaquin to actually seeing Joaquin as Beau and being in the same room as Beau as if it were my own movie. Props to Ari Aster for making a mirror more than a movie.

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please stop associating the term neurodivergent with JUST autism and adhd. like please. there are so many ways to be neurodivergent and it’s not fair to assume that it’s just about autism adhd.

Every autistic person deserves infinite funds to be able to purchase items related to their special interests with

Star Trek, Beauty and the Beast, Fear Street, I want a hundred Funkos on my shelf and more shelves.

I'd also like a few dozen lockets and a good printing machine.

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I don't care what official translations say, I chose to believe "Et tu, Brute?" translates to "What the FUCK, Brutus?"

Reminded of someone saying that that was his way of saying "Dude you're gonna follow right after me lol." and that has been in my head for the past month and a half just waiting for the hours to tick by until March.

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