The consciousness we have come to know as flannel has been around for millennia.
It felt the heat of volcanoes, survived sharp cold of ice ages.
It searched endlessly for something to give it form, that felt like home.
Finally, it discovered flannel.
It would be the perfect vantage point from which to interact with the strange utterly irrational, coincidental people that had coated the earth in themselves.
It became flannel, and flannel was strategic. Picky about who it chose, mostly staying quiet, dormant, waiting for the next thing it needed: an ally.
The allies flannel found were the gays.
The gays were the perfect companions for flannel, and slowly it started to open itself up to them, and little by little a symbiotic relationship was born. Warmth and comfort offered on the part of the flannel, with pride, expression, and protection offered on the part of each gay the flannels cohabited with.
Together, they found acceptance for themselves in the world.
Together, they push each other to strive and thrive.
Together, they’ll seek revolution.
Zoe Brook 
This week, need this hope we can still strive for a better future.
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I feel that. One of the strengths I find in writing and reading fiction is the imagination of the future. There must be the fight for something better, but to get there we need to know what that better can look like, in all its forms. That’s what good fiction can do. There are so many authors that bring that kind of power to the world. I know my work isn’t at that level yet, but that’s what I’m always striving for. I hope it can be enough, that small pieces of hope will build up. I wish you more pieces of hope for this week, and the next ones.
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💕so wholesome. Just a few hours ago i was hanging my several flannels in the closet and thinking about how gay it is to have this many flannels.
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Right? I need to up my flannel game again. We must strengthen the alliance.
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