mammonmachine

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I wrote and directed WE KNOW THE DEVIL and HEAVEN WILL BE MINE. I also wrote for NEON WHITE and I currently work at game company doing game things.


bigstuffedcat
@bigstuffedcat
tati
@tati asked:

are the queens in chess sapphic?

Excellent question, Tati. Let me tell you a story.

Here is the start of a game between Petkov and Nikolov, a common position reached after 1.d4 Nf6 2.Bf4 d5 3.e3 c5 4.c3 Nc6 5.Nd2 Bf5 6.Ngf3 Qb6:

The queen tentatively dips her toe into the game. What's important about this particular move is that the queen can't be easily be counterattacked by a knight or a rook. Since any other piece would love to trade itself for the queen, the queen must step where the only piece that can easily attack it is another queen. This caution is a kind of sapphic identity. (I'm reminded of a lesbian I knew who said it was easier to develop a resting bitch face than develop the ability to defuse horny men.)

A pawn is attacked, and white should defend it. The black queen has bared her throat. To a knight or rook, this merely means weakness-- but the other queen understands a bared throat as something to gaze at, an invitation. So she follows her into the fray:

The subject of the game is now the tension between the queens. If black's queen simply captures the white's queen, dissolving the tension, then white will recapture with the pawn-- and with a newly-free rook and a pawn ready to fling itself at the opponent, white will have the advantage. The same is true with colors reversed. This means that the queens should not be traded-- they must stay on the board, continuing to stare at one another. The tension is unbearable. Black tries to break it apart.

Two women meet in a forest and, under cover of thicket, discover the sensation of fingertips on palms. A voice calls for one of them. What happens next? In many games, white's best move is Qc2. The girl should say goodbye, if only to promise another rendezvous tomorrow. The tension will survive the broken eye contact. But here, the bishop is eyeing the c2 square. The white queen is running out of spaces to go that don't give up the pawn.

White played Qxb6, capturing the queen. A kiss, but an ending, and therefore a concession. Black would go on to win this game elegantly.

For a moment, that opening revolves around the brisk eye contact between two queens, forbidden to resolve that tension. This, too, is yuri.


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in reply to @bigstuffedcat's post:

this is a lovely little piece thank you please take all of this as a very positive comment on the good writing thank you!

Unfortunately I think after 8.Qc2 black can just take the queen with the bishop, and I (with computer) don't really see a better retreat square for the queen or overall move better than just going for the queen trade here . . .

Still, fiction is fun too. :3

this reminded me of this poem:

1
Are you happy? You never tell me.

     Maybe it’s better like this.

You’ve kissed so many others –

     which makes for sadness.

In you, I see the heroines

     of Shakespeare’s tragedies.

You, unhappy lady, were

     never saved by anybody.

You have grown tired of repeating

     the familiar words of love!

An iron ring on a bloodless hand

     is more expressive,

 

I love you – like a storm burst

     overhead – I must confess it;

all the more fiercely because you burn

     and bite, and most of all

because our secret lives take

     very different paths:

seduction and dark fate

     are your inspiration.

To you, my aquiline demon,

     I apologise. In a flash –

as if over a coffin – I realise

     it was always too late to save you!

Even as I tremble – it may be

      am dreaming – there

remains one enchanting irony:

     for you – are not he.

16 October 1914


2
Beneath this caressing, plush blanket

     I call up yesterday’s dream.

What was it? Whose was the victory?

     Who was defeated?

As I think it over again and again

     I keep trying to find

the words for what happened:

     Was it love?

Who was the hunter? Who the prey?

     The roles reverse.

What does the Siberian tiger

     understand as he purrs?

Who in our duel of wills

     was left holding a bauble?

Was it your heart – or mine

     flew off at a gallop?

And, after all, what did happen?

     Something desired – or regretted?

I can’t decide if I won

     or if I was conquered,