#and what’s sad is people I follow AGREE WITH THE BULLSHIT

[kairasims]

Ngl, this community is something really scary….its sad when people agree with others that trash talk and make fun of others just for the hell of it OVER A GAME….who cares how people create their sims, who cares what type of gameplay they do….its their choice. It’s what they like…

What gives people the right to sit here and blatantly accuse someone of pedophilia because of the way a SIM LOOKS or tell someone to “kill yourself” OVER THE STYLE OF A SIM??? Y’all are some creepy fucking people and I pray you don’t reproduce…we don’t need people like you populating the world.

Free speech is one thing but to come after people who know nothing about you and vice versa is fucking pathetic as fuck. Let people play however they want and keep your dirty words to yourself. Stop being toxic you sick fuck..

[mako-island-moon-pool]

Personally of the belief that live action fans who go onto animanga posts uninvited like 'I DESPERATELY NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I THINK THE ART STYLE IS UGLY EVEN THO THIS OPINION IS IRRELEVANT TO THE POST' should be hit with a big rock. We already moved past this ten years ago, get with it or get lost. Swallow the hunger inside of you that demands everything be palatable to you. Maybe you could stand to be a little uncomfortable for a while

[va1entinesg4l]

full of surprises pt.2

☆ pt. 1

pairing: charles leclerc x reader x max verstappen

summary: now that the world knows who the fathers are, what would the public think?

warnings: none except poor translations of french!

“Max! Charles! Is it true that you both are the fathers of y/n’s child?”

“Are you three a throuple?”

“Is Lestappen real then?”

Questions were being asked every single day and both Max and Charles were desperate to answer them. But despite their management being strict with their reputation, they were forced to stay silent.

“Max will be the father of y/n’s child. In public, of course.” that’s what both managers of the boys agreed on. They decided to clear things up with Max being your partner and the father of your child. So in every or any public events which the drivers will be attending, the arm around your waist, is Max’s.

Charles’s heart sank when they told him that. How could he just watch both the love of his life act all happy and in love from afar. He wasn’t just hurt, but betrayed.

The child is Charles’s as much as it’s Max’s. Why should he be kept away from them?

“This isn’t going to work. I’m not doing this.” Charles says sternly, giving you and Max a serious look as he paces around the hotel bedroom. Max crosses his arms with a heavy heart as he watches Charles, he knew what Charles was feeling but who was he to deny that this whole media bullshit was wrong?

You take Charles’s hand as you reassure him, “We just have to deal with this for a few months, mon amour..” Charles shoots you a glare at that and argues, “A few months? I can’t even deal with this for a minute.”

He yanks his hand away from yours as he mutters a ‘fuck’. Then a knock came on the door, Charles’s manager speaking.

“Car is ready, be down in five.”

There was a charity event held by Ferrari and every driver was going. With you being ‘just’ Max’s partner for the cameras, you knew shit might happen tonight.

Max takes your hand as he gives Charles one last glance before heading to the car downstairs with you, Charles following 5 minutes behind as he gets into another car.

You and Max, and Charles both arrive at a different time to avoid any attractions but once you get out of the car, cameras start flashing and questions about your relationship with the boys were once thrown again.

The security leads you both inside the building away from the cameras. The event crowded with people, the Williams drivers chatting along with the Mercedes drivers. Ferrari’s team principal, Fred, talking with Toto.

Max keeps his arm around you as you both try to look for Charles and there he was, alone as he smiles at the people who were greeting him. The smile which was fake and only filled with sadness.

Your heart ached just by watching him being alone, Max couldn’t look at him, it felt like it was his fault, it should’ve been him in Charles’s position.

Charles finally spots you and Max and he looks away, forcing a smile as he engages in conversation with the others to distract himself.

Charles sat at a different table, his expression blank as he holds a new glass of champagne after each empty ones. Speeches went on for hours and Charles just wanted to leave, he couldn’t help but steal glances at you and Max, seeing how close you both are, every touch he gives you, every kiss. In his mind, it felt real. it felt like he wasn’t always the one you and Max loved most.

It was finally Charles’s turn to give a speech after Carlos’s and from the way some of the buttons of his dress shirt was undone, he was drunk.

“Hi.. everyone.” Charles slurs slightly, clearing his throat before continuing. You stare at him from your seat and you felt as if Charles might say something he might just regret.

“I wanted to thank everyone who joined this event tonight. As you all know, Ferrari has been my dream since i was a child and i would’ve never made it this far if it weren’t for my father and Jules.” He stops his sentence, his breath ragged which could be heard through the speakers.

His eyes then land on you and Max, his jaw clenched slightly before speaking again.

“But tonight I wanted to tell everyone something. Three years ago I would’ve given up this career if i hadn’t met y/n, she made something inside of me spark again and it was like a gift from god.”

“Since then i’ve fallen in love with her, but also with someone i’ve never thought of loving.” He shifts his gaze to Max and he swore he saw Max’s eyes soften.

“Max is a wonderful person. Anyone who’s ever seen him as a bad guy for being a winner on track will never understand. J’aime y/n et Max. I love y/n and Max. So yes, the three of us are in love and happy together. The child y/n is carrying is mine as much as it’s Max’s. Which yes, both Max and i are the fathers of y/n’s child.”

A few gasps and murmurs came from the crowd but you could see the other drivers of the grid putting proud smiles on their faces, your heart bursting with happiness at Charles’s confession. Charles gives a drunken smile at the crowd before slurring his words again.

“Et si quelqu'un a un problème avec ça, vous pouvez gentiment vous faire foutre.” And if anyone has a problem with that, you can kindly fuck off.

He stumbles off the stage and Carlos immediately helps him. You run over to him as Max helps him up as well, taking him to the restroom to freshen up.

He was slowly sobering up after Max had forced him to drink four glasses of water and he sits down on the floor, his back slumping against the wall as he chuckles to himself, saying.

“I couldn’t give two fucks about what the media would say but at least now they know the truth.” You and Max look at him but before you both could even say a word, he plays with the ring that was recently worn on his finger.

“Alors maintenant, pouvons-nous en finir avec ça et planifier notre mariage?” So now can we get this over with and plan our wedding?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

im sorry it took WEEKS for me to finish this but my exams are over, thank god. 😭 this really wasn’t the ending i wanted to write since i was suppose to write a part 3 but i couldn’t keep you guys waiting anymore so i wrote the ending and everything in this part. i love you guys for reading & thanks for being patient!!

[asbeel]

My take on Michael and Adam's relationship

Sure destiel may be the main tragedy of supernatural

BUT DONT YOU EVER FORGET THE TRUE TRAGEDY OF MIDAM

Imagine spending over a thousand years with the same person in one confined place. I don't think it has to be said how long of a time that is. Adam and Michael developed mutual respect as equals and also fell in love (confirmed by our lovely #1 midam shipper, Jake Abel, because fuck CW), they are quite literally each other's world.

After escaping the cage, the two of them probably found a peaceful life away from otherworldly drama and lived in domestic bliss. Again, they are together all times of the day for a thousand years!

Adam changed Michael like how Dean changed Castiel. Michael learned the true nature of humanity, the ups and downs, via the eyes of Adam. In season 5, Michael was more than willing to kill off half the human population because that's what he believed to be right and to be God's will. After his time in the cage with Adam, he doesn't kill what is arguably an unimportant amount of people after they witness him smiting Eve. This is definitely not God's will, considering Chuck HAS killed off the same amount of people for less.

On top of that, Adam is able to convince Michael that his father, God, isn't as great as he originally believed. This shows how much Michael had grown in the cage as a person, willing to hear out a human regarding his father's righteousness. It also demonstrates just how much respect Michael has for Adam, because there is no other human in the world who could diss God in front of his most loyal follower. One could argue that the only reason why Michael agreed to help the Winchesters is because of Adam, for Adam.

So when Adam suddenly gets killed by Chuck, Michael is alone for the first time in over a thousand years. Adam, an essential part of Michael's life, gave Michael a new meaning to life, away from heaven. Loneliness like could drive anyone mad, and it's jarring to lose someone like that so suddenly.

As much as I think the canon reason for why Michael betrayed the Winchesters is utter fucking bullshit and definitely a cheap escape the writers didn't think much about, I wouldn't lie if I said it kinda fits. Adam may have changed Michael, but development isn't a straight path uphill, and grief makes people do a lot of things. Adam's death leads Michael to become lost without purpose so much so that he returns to God for a new purpose, to be "God's favourite son" again. Michael is desperate to never be alone again, and God is all powerful, so it isn't far-fetched to assume he had lost hope to get Adam back and resorted to the next best thing, Chuck (if you can't beat em, join em ahh)

Ngl sometimes I think about midam and become sad

Anyways I wanna see some discussions

[therainscene]

It’s funny that Bylers are so often accused of being delusional, because I was at my most delusional when I was anti-Byler.

I spent most of S4 refusing to acknowledge that Will had romantic feelings for Mike, despite knowing damn well what all that love triangle imagery and sad gay pining was implying. I convinced myself it was just bros before hoes drama; that perhaps Will wanted to come out to his best friend but felt nervous after six months of radio silence following “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

The van scene forced me to accept that he really was in love, and it pissed me off because what was even the point of making him fall for a straight boy?

Mike’s bizarre “no homo” behaviour was clearly a symptom of growing up in a conservative 80s household, and witnessing Will’s sacrificial act of love in the van was the shitty lesson he needed to get over his homophobia.

I saw a typical straight male protagonist in an 80s coming-of-age film getting to coast his way to self-actualization on the back of queer suffering; a cruel and homophobic trope I thought we’d moved past by the year 2022.

But then the NINA reunion scene rolled around--

--and I immediately picked up on the heavy parallels between Mike and Will in how they greeted El. The realization hit me like a tonne of bricks: Mike feels the same way about her as Will does.

I thought, “wait, does this mean I was wrong about...? Oh my god. No way.

No fucking way.

Will was in love with El this whole time?? What the fuck, he’s been gay since S1 and she’s his sister this is BULLSHIT I will personally strangle the Duffers--”

Heteronormativity is a hell of a drug, kids.

Let this be a lesson to those of you who think media illiteracy is to blame for Byler denial -- how well someone understands the mechanics of storytelling is irrelevant if they insist on treating Mike’s supposed heterosexuality as an axiom instead of an evidence-based conclusion. The issue lies with bias, not literacy.

I was stubbornly anti-Byler because I knew I’d immediately fall in love with this ship if I allowed myself to have hope it could be canon, and the general state of queer rep in mainstream media meant I was all but guaranteed to get hurt if I was so stupid as to have hope. But in my desperation to cling to the “safe” heteronormative outcome, I only ended up hurting myself with my own silly assumptions.

We’ve seen both canonically gay characters in the show make exactly this mistake, needlessly hurting themselves with their silly but self-defensive assumptions about their love interests.

Stranger Things absolutely nails its depiction of the subtler ways internalized homophobia can manifest -- Will may feel like a mistake and be prone to beating himself up, but he isn’t some pitiful self-loathing queer who wishes he was straight, either. He’s just so crushed by heteronormativity that he accepts it as an inescapable fact of life and lets it guide his beliefs and actions.

Don’t get me wrong: Will, like Robin, is very sensible for being cautious in such a horrifically bigoted environment -- trying to openly defy that level of homophobia by yourself, especially when you’re young, is a bad idea.

But unlike Robin, he clearly struggles to accept that he has the right to chase his same-sex love interest. He's no longer simply exercising caution, but conforming to homophobic standards -- much in the same way I thought I was sensibly refusing to be queerbaited, when really I was just agreeing with the heteronormative status quo.

I realize now that this is the real reason Will was written into a homophobic 80s trope: not to teach Mike an outdated lesson in acceptance, but to maneuver Will into position for the lesson he’s going to learn in S5 about resisting conformity.

Will needs to learn that castrating himself to make straight people comfortable is a bad idea too. Not only is that a miserable way to live his life, but what sort of world is he leaving for the next generation of queer kids if he never questions these homophobic standards?

It’s just the cycle of abuse scaled up to the societal level.

This is what gives me confidence in Byler endgame. Queerness isn’t just an incidental element of Will’s personal arc, but suffuses the show to its very core -- it’s in its themes, its allegory, its characters.

So Will getting the boy isn’t just nice fan-service for Byler shippers, but a necessary ending if the show’s most important lesson is to land:

That it’s rewarding to make the difficult choice of standing up to bigotry in the face of forced conformity. Of choosing love.

Could it be the case that I was right the first time, and Stranger Things is going to turn out to be yet another heteronormative mainstream show that doesn’t commit to its own themes? Sure, maybe. But that wouldn’t invalidate the valuable lessons this show has already -- and apparently accidentally lol -- taught me.

Anyone who calls us deluded for hoping a mainstream show is going to have a gay pairing as its main couple just doesn’t realize -- or doesn’t care -- that they’re contributing to the very problem they’re describing.

[blacclotusss]

I honestly don't even know where to start. I have never in my entire life seen so much drama and bullshit from one fandom in my entire life; and the fandom is small as hell at that. Do you know how sick and twisted you look compiling a list of people who speak out against the racism, homophobia, etc. in this fandom and telling everyone else not to follow them? Mind you, most of these accounts have Black people behind them. You scream and yell about how Black people aren't a monolith and claim you're for Black people and yet, most of your targets are Black. I don't understand how you can have so much vitriol for people who simply disagrees with you. I could understand if it was something groundbreaking, but you're mad at people for saying things about a main character that are true. But because you don't agree, it's a problem. And then, you go on to target people who include these themes and such in their writing, sending anon asks and such, to cause an even bigger problem. What's the matter? Is it jealousy? Don't you have a group of people on here who you can talk to? Go cozy up with them and get them to read your stuff. I don't get hits or kudos on my stuff either, but I'm not making it everyone else's problem. I want you to do some self reflection and do better overall because this ain't it, boo. You're literally the root of a lot of people's problems on this app and it's honestly sad. Let's get ourselves together.

[nameless-ghoul-trash]

Papa emeritus IV X Ghoul!Mom!F!Reader

Part 2

-

Word count: 2.1k

Lightly proofread

Warnings: none.

Part 1 / Part 3

-

You were standing outside the ghouls den waiting for Copia to show up. After you left Copia's office, you had finished your chores. Having finished with an hour to spare and you went back to your room to find it empty. It left you feeling rather empty yourself. You spent a good portion of that time thinking over the who scenario before heading for the to head to the den, bringing you to the present. Watching Copia turn the corner. He had fixed his paints, looking nothing of how he did at your last meeting. You call out a greeting. "Hello, Copia. Are you ready?" Smiling he replied. "Yes, fiore! I have had some time to think over everything." Moving over to the door he knocked, he waited a second and then pushed the door open. He seemed to be in a rush. Probably wanting to get this over with. Following behind Copia, you smile. In the middle of the common room was a ghoul pile, and in the middle lay Aether. Happy purrs and chatters could be heard coming from the pile.

Rain was the first to pop his head up. "Hi Papa, Ma." He greats you both and continues. "What are you guys doing?" One by one, you see the rest look towards the two of you. "It had come to my attention that I needed to come talk to all of you as a group. Solo noi come una famiglia." In the process of talking, Copia his way to sit on the floor in front of the ghoul pile. He turns and gestures for you to join him.

Taking a seat the ghouls before you untangle themselves from each other. Once everybody is sitting up, Copia began. "I know today did not go as we expected. Some painful information was dropped on us all." He talked to them as if he were a father talking to his children. Voice gentle, understanding, and caring. "This is something we will need to work through together." There was a pause."Why is this happening?" Mountain was the first to speak out. His voice was unsteady. "It is my fault. I have not been performing my duties as Papa as well as I should be. I am not matching up with the expectation. This is the punishment that was deemed necessary. I tried to get Sister Imperator to reconsider with nothing to show for it." He was being completely honest. Guilt written all over his face. He was not hiding any information from the band.

"That's bullshit!" Sodo's angry voice cuts through the air, causing Copiato stiffen. "You work harder than most! How do you not meet the expectations. Almost all of our past rituals have been successes. You do the workload of at least three people. What do they actually expect from you! Sure, you're a ditz sometimes, but come on." Sodo looked exasperated. "He's right. You don't deserve this. We don't deserve this." Cumulus commented. "I agree." Rain and Curris added in unison. "What are we going to do? They are taking away a vital part of our group. Swapping an experienced guitarist for someone new!" Swiss voiced his thoughts, which was followed by Mountains. "There is also no guarantee that the new one will end up being any good either." You just sat there listening to what everyone had to say. "I hear your concerns. I have similar concerns as well. We will need to do our best to accommodate to the changes. It will be a learning process for us all." Copia does his best to ease their concerns.

You become painful aware of the guilt and sadness that had spread across Aether's face. His voice broke your heart when he chose to speak. You had to resist the urge to crawl over and hold him. "What of me?" It came out broken, almost scared of the answer. All eyes were on him the moment the words left his mouth. "What will happen to me?" He voiced a little clearer. Copia's face softened even more. "Do not worry, Aether. You will remain here. You may be pulled from the band, but you are not any less one of us. I will die before I let anyone rip you from your home. " There was a spark of a feeling you couldn't quite pin point with the was his voice dropped to almost that of a threatening tone. A wave of relief rushed over Aether. The others also seemed pleased with that answer. "I don't know if this arrangement is going to be temporary or permanent. I'm not going to promise either to you all. I need you to know that I am always on your side, and I will always do my best for you guys." Copia continued. "Papa informed me that the new ghoul will be summoned next Friday. They will be fresh and in need of a guide. Aether, would you be comfortable taking that role?" You asked.

Watching a small smile creep up to his face, he accepted. "I think I can do that." Copia take over again. "Thank you. They will move into one of the open rooms. We give them two or three day to adjust once they arrive. After their training will begin. I would like you all to welcome them with open minds and kindness. They did not choose this, and they are not to blame." Everyone responded in some way, weather it be vocalized or a gesture. Patting Copia's shoulder, you proceed to stand, letting them finish the conversion without you. Watching you walk through the door, Copia let out a sigh.

Looking back at his ghouls, he becomes aware of them all staring at him with either a stupid grin or an expectant look on their faces. "What?" Copia questions. "We totally see what's happening." Aurora giggled out. "See what?" He stares back, confusion clearly written across his painted face. "That look." She pushes again. His brows furrowed deeper. "Did I mess up my paint?" He brings a hand up to his face, but not quite touching. This causes a couple of them to chuckle at his obviousness. "No, Papa. Your paints are fine." Cirrus reassures. "Then what is it?" His confusion turning to frustration. "(Y/N), Papa. We know you've got a thing for her." Swiss interjected.

Feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck and warm his face, he looked to the side. "I do not know what you're talking about." He denied. "We noticed a while ago. You don't hide it very well." Cumulus commented, giggling at the man. "Don't feel bad about it." She added, trying to confort him. Facing them, he let another sigh fall from his lips. "Is it really that obvious?" Sodo barked a laughing. "Painfully so. I wouldn't be surprised if most of the ministry knew."

"You ever going to make a move?" Aether pried. Copia ran a hand through his hair. The thought of approaching you about his attraction to you had crossed his mind countless times. He ran into the same problem every time. "I don't know how." The confession stund the group. "What do you mean you don't know how? Get her flowers. Invite her to dinner. I've never seen her with anyone, so at least you've got a shot." Sodo throws at him. Copia made an exasperated gesture. "Satanas! I know that! But I don't know her favorite flower, nor what her favorite food is, not even her favorite color. Non so niente di lei! Even after all my years of knowing her, I do not truly know her." He tries to voice low. The room quiets.

Realization hits each of them like a ton of bricks. None of them knew much, if anything, about you. They knew you worked hard and hardly complained. You had always lended a helping hand to anyone in need. You listened, gave advice, never judged, and always took care of everyone. That's when the guilt crept in. You were all these thing for them, yet they hadn't taken the time to learn about you. Satan, they had been in your room and hadn't even noticed any consistent colors that would indicate a favor. All except one.

The room remained in a thick silence until Rain broke it. "I guess none of - " Sodo interrupts him. "She always smells of lemon grass and sage. Never strongly but enough that when she holds me, I can smell it. So she probably spends some time on that side of the garden. She also has a pressed (Favorite Flower) framed beside her bed. I know she has not been with anyone at least in the last year or so because I would smell it on her. I'm around her enough that I would notice. She rarely smells of anyone but us long enough for it to be noticeable. That'll at least give you a start." Sodos voice was soft as he played with his fingers, seemingly embarrassed. Everyone just looked at him shocked. His grumpy attitude returning he looked around. "What? Surprised I actually pay attention?" He bit out. Copia smiles. "That is actually very helpful. Thank you." He was sincere in his appreciation for the fire ghoul.

------

In the kitchen, you settled at the sink to do the task at hand. Almost finished, you hear the door and then the thuding of footsteps. Coming to stand beside you, Copia looks at you. "You did amazing in there. See, you didn't need me, and they have your back." You smile at him. He just takes you in for a minute. From the base of your horns, the curve of your lips exposing the sharp points of your fangs to the beautiful (E/C) of your eyes. A warm feel makes its home in his chest. "Sí, il mio fiore, you were correct." Continuing your work, you ask."Do you feel better now?" "Yes very much so." "Good! It's going to be a bumpy road, just know that you have people who have your back." You beemed at him.

Copia paused for a minute. Now was as good a time as ever. Willing his nerves not to show, he tried to discreetly let out a breath. "Um, (Y/N), I have a question." Not stopping your work, you giggled. "Shoot." "Would you be apposed to have having dinner with me." The question surprised you, halting your actions, you look at him. He was visible nervous. Suddenly, a wave of your own dread and fear crash over you. "Like a date?" You question back. "Not if you don't want it to be. It could be just dinner as friends. You don't have to do anything that you're not comfortable with." He was rambled on. The tension was clear as day, both panicking for different reasons. You steeled yourself, trying to rein in your emotions. Dinner was just that, dinner. As much as you were afraid, you were also lonely.

You were tired of the loneliness if you were honest with yourself. You had spent many years being careful of what you let happen in your life, that in the end you neglected yourself all the same. Having lost your closest friend over five years ago, you never really opened up to anyone after that. The closest you had come was the time you had spent with a certain ghoul.

It was just dinner. You were not laying yourself bare to him or spilling you secrets. It was eating a nice meal with a good man. You could not deny your attraction to the human. More than once, she had caught her eyes wondering over to him when in the same room.

Giving him a smile, you make eye contact. "I would like that." His words died on his tongue. It is him who looked surprised now. "Wait, really?" Drying your hands, you turn your body to face him. "Yeah! I think that it would be nice." "Oh well! Good, good." A slight awkward air fell between the two. He honestly had not expected to get this far. "Umm, how about Saturday? Does that work for you?" You lay your hand on his shoulder. "Yes, Copia. That works for me." Copia looks to the sink and back to you. "Would you want any help finishing?" He asks. "If you would like to, you can dry as I finish washing." Taking off his gloves, he grabs the towel, and they finish the dishes together.

------

No one can convince me that Sodo would not cling to someone he veiws as a motherly figure. I will die on that hill. I hope you enjoyed part 2. As always, feedback and requests are always appreciated and encouraged.

Tag list:

@water-ghoulette

@thirstyroses-world

Here's another photo from the ritual!

[darklinaforever]

So… there are really fucking people who insult Rose for preferring to spend eternity in the afterlife with Jack, her first love / great love / soul mate / the person who most marked her life... Instead of the guy she later married and about whom we know nothing except the name ?

Like, I can't fucking believe it.

Are there really people who would have wanted to see Rose join a guy we never saw at the end ? But have you at least watched the movie ?

Wtf seriously…

In case people have forgotten, marriage vows are "till death do us part", not "for all eternity into the afterlife". If a woman, in life, can remarry after becoming a widow without being insulted, why does the ghost of Rose, a dead woman, who is no longer bound by the laws of marriage, take insults in the face ? Under the pretext of not being with her husband / father of her children in the afterlife ?

You have to stop the bullshit after a while. We literally know nothing about the guy.

Yes. Rose didn't tell her husband or anyone about Jack. But who tells you that she didn't at least let him know that she had a first love that ended badly ? Who even told you that the guy only had Rose in his life and that she was his first and only love for whom he dedicated his entire life ?

It's ridiculous !

We don't know anything about this guy ! He too may have a great lost love ! We can imagine anything about him, quite simply because he has no importance for the story of the film ! (Aside from allowing Rose to actually have babies and watch them grow up, like Jack told her...)

If you're imagining a scenario where Mr. Calvert is all devoted to Rose and sad without her in the beyond making her some sort of asshole, you're the one with the problem. Because essentially, since we know nothing, we can imagine everything. And if you choose to imagine the worst… You have a serious problem with Rose's character.

Also, I hate those who sum up the Rose & Jack romance as something superficial that shouldn't mean much to her compared to the father of her children… You at least realize that without Jack's intervention in Rose's life, she would have had none of the hectic life she ultimately led ? Including the said father of her children ?! Some people tire me…

And it annoys me to see people say that we don't know if she stays with Jack in the afterlife or if she just went to greet him before finding her husband... But what ?! Oh yes, because we greeted everyone with a big, passionate kiss before going to quietly find our husband... Seriously, people stop obsessing over this non-existent guy ! Rose lived with her husband, while she did not have the opportunity to do so with Jack, symbolically her literal soul mate. Obviously she's actively going to spend eternity with Jack and not her ex-husband ?! I don't even understand why this is a real question ?!

Let's be realistic, if we assume that the afterlife and spirits exist, I guess we can all agree that Jack has seen everything Rose has done in her life, which makes sense, since she continued following their promise. But then, we can also assume that Rose's ex-husband learned the truth of the Titanic story by observing his former wife ? Who knows ? And who told you he wouldn't understand ? Wouldn't he be happy that she could find this lost love ? After all, they had their time and their life ! Again, I can't believe people care about this essentially anonymous guy.

Also, as these people said so well :

[heroictoonz]

So, I finished Red vs Blue. Just now like not even a few seconds ago as of writing this post. It was, well to say it bluntly it wasn’t great. I didn’t agree with pretty much most of the endings for these characters and I wish the final season had been longer than less than an hour an a half. Most movies are longer than that these days. But, I will say, that I cried. I cried and sobbed and am still crying writing this because even if I didn’t like how it ended it didn’t end horribly and I can tell it ended in love. All the characters, the ones they had in the season at least, got their emotional 15 minutes of fame. Maybe Tucker didn’t get much at all but, I dunno. As the guy whose only personality trait is liking Tucker RvB I weirdly didn’t mind all too much. Donut wasn’t in it either but he did great in season 17 so I also don’t mind that too terribly.

I will say, I don’t think there was any hope of RvB having an ending that I, personally, would think was ‘good’ or ‘satisfying’. Not perfectly at least. And I don’t say this to be mean. But, this was clearly the kind of show that was meant to run on till it was forced to die. They probably weren’t planning on ending it when they did and it took the company getting taken to pasture for it to be over. With as much random bullshit that they crammed into this show I never much expected for it all to be focused on or tied up in the finale. And this show didn’t start as something that took itself very seriously, but the ending was clearly taken with so much heart and care in mind and that’s all I can ask for from this show, I think.

They ended the show where it began. In a box canyon. They ended the story with Allison and Leonard. The people who unknowingly started all of this in the first place. They did what they could to tie in other loose ends and bring in some really cool ideas to make the ending interesting and still it’s own fun story. It made me sad to watch, honestly. Most the characters I have spent so many years loving just didn’t get the best endings. And I was always afraid of that but, hey maybe I’ll write a fic to give them a better one. Maybe it’s the endings that the RT team thought was most fitting for all of them, and I can understand why. I just, personally, enjoy happy endings. This one wasn’t as happy. But, it had hope in it. Especially Carolina and Wash’s last part. I hate the idea of some of these characters being dead and never coming back. I hate the idea of Grif leaving and never seeing any of the others again. But I get it, I understand the ending and I’m content with it. As weird as that might seem, honestly.

Whenever I finish something I’m always reminded of this Doctor Who episode I watched as a kid where he talks about how much he hates endings. How he will tear the last page from books he reads so they never have to end. It’s funny that without fail I think of that episode, that scene. Because in that episode the Doctor is forced to face an ending. One he doesn’t want but accepts anyways. This is me rambling but, I think every time I finish something I love this much and have loved for this long, whether the ending it good or bad, I think I understand that random Doctor Who episode more and more each time.

Did I like the ending season of Red vs Blue? Not fully. The ideas were cool but as with most of this show the execution wasn’t the best in my opinion. But, maybe I’m just a hard ass lol. But the ending did make me laugh, it made me cry, it made me smile and stim and feel. The ending made me feel. And it was a pretty good send off to a pretty great show. And hell, they got an ending. That’s harder to come by these days. Maybe that’s all I can ask for from it. Maybe that’s why even in my tears I’m content more than any other emotion.

But, it’s also weird. Like a really long chapter of my life is closing. I think this is also where I have to officially accept what happened to RT. As someone who’s followed RWBY, RvB, and Camp Camp for a really long time not to mention the lives and their gaming channel and all of that, it feels weird? Kinda bad, honestly, to see it end. I’ve, admittedly, been avoiding it. Avoiding talking or thinking about it. And I doubt the guys told all the stories they had for this show, but I’m glad they got to end it. I’m glad they got at least that much.

It’s 2am and I have work in about 14 hours. I think I’m gonna go read fanfiction.

[ethereal-engene]

just like spring snow | youngjae

pairing: bf!eric x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst, and slice of life // warnings: mentions of food, dealing with sadness and longing, and depression (not super in depth for the most part) & not really proof-read

summary: A story of coping with Eric’s hiatus and the aftermath. // word count: ~3.5k

note: I know he’s been back for a little while now but wanted to commemorate it in writing because I became a deobi while he was on hiatus and am super happy he’s back! 

They say that distance makes the grow fonder and you agree but that doesn’t mean that the distance doesn’t make you miss them.

You understood why Eric was taking a hiatus and actually helped him decide on it. With everything that happens in the industry, you know it’s not easy to deal with given the myriad of challenges. It made you quite proud that he was doing this.

Of course, you didn’t want him to leave but you knew he’d be back and that it was for the best. He spent a lot of time with you and the members before he officially left for the states. Seeing him off, he cried a lot and told you that he’d still keep in touch. Along with his iconic line of “Always remember Eric loves you” all of the while him saying it with tears streaming down his face.

Wiping them away with your free hand as the other was holding his hand. “I love you too, my love. Don’t forget to text me when you land and don’t worry about me too much. Take care, my lucky clover.” You give him one last tight hug and kiss.

Honestly, you were trying your best not to cry as hard as him. Eric being who he is, noticed that and wanted to stay just so he could give you more comfort. He feels bad but you know if he told you, you’d smack him. Because you don’t want to be the reason why he holds back on getting the much deserved break.

You both know if he stays then it wouldn’t really be the hiatus and break that he worked to set up with the company. So when you two hear an announcement from the speakers about how this is the last call for his flight, you pull away.

Eric kisses you once more but waving goodbye. Once again, the tears from his face start to fall. You wave goodbye and walk away. Knowing that if you turn around, you won’t go back. People would assume that you two were breaking up given all of the crying. Quite the contrary though, yours and his relationship is strong.

This was simply another test of the time and strength of your relationship. And besides you and him both know the real reason behind his hiatus. There’s no bullshit reason as to why he’s doing it.

Anyhow, you had to have one of the other members pick you up from the airport. They tried their best to console you and you appreciate them for it. Jacob, Kevin and Sangyeon were most notably the ones who helped you the most during this moment.

When they dropped you off at your apartment, just as you had given Eric a tight hug, they gave you one just as tight too. If they could, they’d spent the rest of today with you but they had their schedules. Obviously you weren’t going to keep them from that so you told them you’d text them if you needed anything.

Besides you weren’t a stranger to the whole busy schedule they had to follow. Waving them goodbye & thanking them again, you went into your apartment. It felt emptier without Eric’s things taking up tiny spaces.

Taking a deep breath to remind yourself of why this was happening again to ground yourself. Repeating the words “He’s not leaving me, this break is to help him get better.”

In an attempt to soothe these feelings, you decided to clean. But it was quite hard to do so when Eric basically did that before he left so you went to work on your assignments. Unfortunately, even the departure of your love couldn’t stop time for you to work on school.

With time passing by, you and Eric still kept in touch. Whether it was through FaceTimes or text messages. It was always fun to catch up and see what he’s been up to. As well for him to see what you’re doing and the other members.

It can be challenging with the time difference but you two make it work. If you’re lucky enough, you two will video call as you’re working on assignments and him doing his own things. Kind of strange but you’ll take any time you can get to spend with him, even if it’s virtual.

Every so often, when you think about how he’s not currently with you. The tears flow freely down your face. Almost like a never ending stream. Hugging your pillow and wishing it was Eric. Waking up to an empty bed is really when it hurts.

After always being woken up by a kiss from him, you long for the moment; it's no longer a dream but a reality instead. How can a bed feel so cold without the presence of him? It’s like it doesn’t matter how many blankets or layers you have, the breeze will find a way to greet you.

There were some days where you didn’t want to leave the bed or do anything. Hoping that sleeping would take the pain away. When you didn’t respond to text messages coming from everyone, they got worried. As one would.

Eric would send small messages to you when this happens. He knows that you’ll be okay but it definitely hurts him too. Making a mental to shower you in his love and affection when his hiatus is over. In the meantime, may this period of time where you two are apart allow you to still grow with each other.

You just forgot how to live without Eric and it sucked ass. To be in love and a relationship shouldn’t mean you lose total sense of who you are and the life you lived before them. It took a while for you to get back on your feet.

Starting off small by rebuilding your daily routine. Things like setting up what time you’d go in for work, start and finish homework, attend class, and eat your meals. In due time, your mind was occupied with the present and sometimes inevitably floating to Eric.

Wanting to know what he was up to or sharing stories about your day to him. However in the back of your head, you knew that if he wanted to tell you something he would. Eric would not hold back on anything to you. All is good though because you may or may not have been writing in a journal to keep track of all the little and big things you want to tell him. If not a journal then a letter.

It helped you cope with him being away. Making you feel like you’d one day just mail all of these to him as if y’all are two long lost lovers or something. You would be lying if you didn’t think about sending these to him but for some reason, you felt like it was better for him to just have them when he came back. Plus you didn’t want to pay to stamp all of them or didn’t want to flood his mailbox with these.

Another way you worked through this period of time was with the boyz.

Whoever had an off day in the boyz would offer to spend the day with you. Going with places for Chanhee to take pictures. Going to their dorms to play games with Juyeon or watching movies with Sunwoo, Younghoon, Jaehyun and Changmin. And last but not least going to their studio to watch them practice and record for their upcoming songs.

It was super fun to see the creative process behind them building a song. Especially with Jacob and Sunwoo. Seriously super talented and lovely songwriters. If you weren’t spending time with them, you were on campus studying & being a student.

You met up with old friends who attended the same college as you too. Taking the time to build more meaningful relationships with them and sharing stories about your struggles with classes. It felt nice to be able to talk to them about “normal” things.

Lastly, you were also working so that took up a good chunk of your week to focus on. The number of stories that accumulate just from one day at work is crazy. Ranging from horrible customers to hearing juicy stories about the town to playing along with little kids. This would have to be the final piece in cementing back the normalcy you had again.

God, it felt so liberating. Of course, you still missed him but with everything going on, it was easy for it to slip out of your mind. A gentle reminder that with and without Eric, you’re still your own person with dreams and goals.

With the time passing by, and before you knew it. You received the text that you were waiting for this entire time. The text read: “I hope you haven’t been missing me too much but I’ll be home soon. Can’t wait to finally see you again. I love you!!”

It took everything in you not to scream. You re-read it multiple times before calling him. Just to confirm and hear his voice again. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Babe, why would I lie about that?? Don’t worry, I promise it’s real and in fact the announcement should be going to the fans soon. God, I can’t wait to hug and kiss you again.” If it were possible to hear the joy coming from him, you were hearing and feeling it full force.

You couldn’t help but silently sob into your phone. Almost forgetting he was still on the phone with you, he started to bombard you with questions. Traces of worry laced in his tone. Asking if you’re okay or need something.

You responded in between sniffles and wiping your nose. “Y… yeah I am my lucky clover. I just can’t believe you’re finally coming back. Please let me know when your flight is and I’ll be there. I love you too!”

Eric almost forgot how much he hated hearing you cry. Wanting nothing more than to fly right away so that you wouldn’t be alone anymore. Alas he left you with more comforting words and texted you his flight information.

It was actually a lot closer than you were expecting. Setting a little countdown and you carried on with your day but carrying bits of more happiness than before. Everything about that day and forward seemed to go by faster and smoother than before. It gave you more strength to get through these last couple days.

When your phone went off to remind you that the countdown was over, it awoke you. Not the worst way to wake up but we all know the best way was with Eric next to you. So you got up and made your bed.

Today seemed to shine brighter today. As if the universe knew that Eric was coming back. After a while, you got a call from Kevin that they were here and ready to go!

Having already dressed up and all, you bid goodbye to this apartment. Telling them that soon it wouldn’t feel as empty anymore but also thanking it for keeping you safe during this time. You got into the car and chatted about anything with them all until y’all arrived. They totally didn’t place a bet on who was going to cry today.

When you guys arrived, it was almost hard not to get lost with the normal traffic at an airport coupled with reporters/paparazzi awaiting his arrival. Not even being able to see anything, it dampened your mood a bit. However after getting through all of the cameras and waiting, seeing him again made it all better.

Also Younghoon definitely cried but everyone knew that it would happen. To be fair, you cried as well and Eric. After reaching a more private space, you had run so fast into his arms and as one can only imagine he spun you. Both of you held eye contact until crying into each other’s shoulders. Eric had whispered so many I love yous and thank you for waiting. Shaking your head to reassure him that it was fine.

“I’m just glad you’re back, my lucky clover. I love you too and if you ask me it was worth the wait.” You whispered back and leaned your head against his forehead. So his and your eyes could meet. Maybe a couple minutes passed and you two hear fake coughs. “You know, Eric we’re here too.”

And right then and there laughter comes out of everyone. “How could I ever forget my oh so handsome and caring hyungs?” A playfully annoyed tone coming from Eric along with a roll of his eyes. All the while, his arms opened up so that they could hug him. You slowly back away because you’ve seen them run at full force and let’s not lie here, it’s kind of scary. They don't just hug him but almost tackle him to the ground.

You’re laughing as it happens and helping them get back up with the help of their manager(s). 

“Welcome back, our energetic maknae! It really hasn’t been the same without you here and we love you.” Sangyeon welcomes him. All of them go around giving him a hug and maybe even a noogie. When they’re done, Eric returns to your side and slightly unaware of just how much they messed up his hair, you take a selfie/selca together. Only then does he notice it and leaves out a groan as you laugh. Eventually you help fix his hair and you all head back to the dorms to celebrate.

Sitting with him reminds me of when you two started going out. Both of you were quite shy and it may have taken the members giving y’all encouragement to be more comfortable with each near them. Besides they were fucking tired of hearing Eric talk about how he was scared that his members would get annoyed at you two for doing anything with public display of affection. They told him that it was fine just don’t overdo it or anything inappropriate. Ever since then, you two slowly got used to it.

You two were so young then but nothing about your love for each other has changed. Even anything, your love for each other got stronger especially after reuniting. The day was spent talking and enjoying everyone’s company. At the end, as they dropped you two off at your apartment it felt a bit odd. Walking up the stairs holding each other’s hand and the other carrying a luggage, it really did remind you of the first time you ever brought him to your place. It took a lot of convincing to the members and the company that nothing would happen to him.

Welcoming him in you, you let him know that you were going to shower and probably head to bed. Eric nodded and was putting back the things of his that used to belong there. He was taking in the view as if he didn’t know what it looked like before. Seeing his trinkets be placed, it helped the place feel more like home. After he was done putting them in their respective places, he was taking his sweet time observing the photos of you two together.

He was entranced by them so much that he didn’t hear you come out of the shower. For some reason, you didn’t want to disturb his peace so you let him indulge in it. Besides, you had done exactly what he was doing when he was gone. Looking at the pieces of your memories together and remembering that moment. When he’s done, he feels your eyes on him. Looking at each other with smiles growing.

If love was in the form of a person then it was Eric for you. Both of you couldn’t imagine a life without each other, much less a future too. For him, his future was with you. Walking over to you, he wrapped his arms around you. Peppering you with kisses and pretending to slow dance in your living room. “Thank you again for waiting for me. I know it was hard but I’m proud of us for surviving it. I can’t promise that I won’t hurt you again but I will promise that I’ll always return to you.” A promise sealed with your pinky fingers interlocking and a kiss to the lips.

“Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum. I could and would wait however long it took for you to feel your best and better. It might have hurt but it’s not like I didn’t know what I agreed to when I told you to go for it.” You detached his hands from you and held them to move to the couch before continuing.

“You left in the spring and returned with the snow. I truly believe that these eight months apart proved that our love can withstand whatever comes our way. Thank yourself for being strong enough to admit that you needed a break. You know that everyone can’t do that but you did and I’ll always be proud of you for that.”

Eric really thought he had cried it all out today but hearing your sweet words attested to that statement. Just as you were wiping his tears when he left, you were doing the same now. A sense of relief washed over you when you realized how similar it was. Because now he was back and better. Rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings helped soothe his pain.

One of the things that you will always love Eric for is not holding back on his emotions. During their concerts and fancons, he was known for also crying his heart out with Younghoon. He was comfortable enough to let it out. In a world where men who get called mean names for simply being in touch with their feelings and expressing them, it was a shock to you. Over time, you learned to appreciate that quality of him.

Giving him a forehead before playing the song spring snow by the boyz. While this song is a fan-song, the lyrics are very touching and a message you’d like Eric to receive. Some of the lines for reference:

At the end of the cold winter, it’s you who’s waiting for me

Everything changed after meeting you. The time when it was cold, as if it was decided, towards me. You approach with a warm smile and embrace me

I’m always grateful for you who came to me

Even if the moment of you and me passes by. Even in those lonely moments It’s fine now as it’s no longer cold

As he calmed down, you gave him a glass of water. You had one more thing for him before this day came to an end. Finding the letters or journal for him, you handed it to him. “It’s all of the things I wanted to tell you when you were gone. You can read them all another day but please shower. So we can sleep, I am beat from today.”

Eric laughed before wrapping you up in another long hug. “Yeah yeah I will. Thank you, my love. I love you again. I feel like I have to make up for the time I was away and I’ll read these with all the love in my heart.” He got up first and held out his hand for you to take it. Placing your hand in his, he kissed it and made his way to the bathroom.

While he was in the shower, he kept thinking about you and all of the things he wanted to do with you now that he’s back. There weren’t enough words to fully capture how he felt. All he knew was that he loved you and you loved him back. Knowing that gave him enough strength to carry on.

With him in the shower, you started to get cozy with the bed and told yourself to not sleep until he was out. Unfortunately, the tiredness got to you first before he did. So when he came out ready to spend the last few moments left in the day, he was greeted with you sleeping. He couldn’t blame you. Today was an emotional rollercoaster. 

Before he slept with you, he wrote a letter to you. In case that he had to leave in the morning for his schedule. Oh and of course he gave you a forehead kiss, wished that you slept well, and to have sweet dreams.

The season of Spring usually is the season of hope, blossoming of flowers, and the warmth returning but this year it brought the opposite. On the flip side, the season of Winter usually is the season of sadness, heartbreak, and the loss of warmth but this year it brought the opposite. 

The Spring Snow will always follow each other to give what the other season was missing. Like Spring Snow, you and Eric complete each other in ways people don’t understand because they are not you and him.

wow ash the boyz debut fic :)) 

I hope you enjoyed this and if you did please interact with it by reblogging it (preferably with tags and what you liked about it or what you didn’t like), sending in an ask or dm to me, or even leaving a comment in the notes section. I appreciate you and hope you remember to take care

signing off with love to eric,

- ash

[nightcolorz]

Hiii. I love your acc and the analyses you've made of TVC characters; reading your posts has expanded and helped me articulate the ideas I already had. Anne Rice as an author was very revealing, I mean, by reading her books and analyzing the characters and their dynamics, you get a lot of information about her as a person. That's very interesting. I think all authors put a bit of themselves into their works, but with Anne Rice it feels more personal, maybe because there are quite a few books following the same characters. What do you think?

omg thank you so much 🥹❤️ the makes me so happy. I agree wholeheartedly with ur take on Anne rice. The books are suuuper personal, sometimes to the point where I almost feel like I shouldn’t have access to them 😭 like I’m reading someone’s weird diary. I think this was because her writing functioned as her only outlet. like iwtv was so visceral and sad bcus it was such a raw unfiltered expression of her grief, and the rest of the books all follow the same format (to varying degrees of quality lol).

When it comes to the characters, she was open about how every character is in some way representative of a part of her (especially Lestat and Louis). U can analyze for days how Louis and lestats evolutions r akin to witnessing evolutions of Anne rices mental health, Louis her former self insert created during probably the darkest time in her life later becoming a representation of what she considers the worst parts of herself that she is ashamed of and being basically cut from the series, and Lestat going from an embodiment of her fraught relationship with her husband in iwtv to in tvl a power fantasy who she wishes she was like to at the same time a mouth piece for her existential dread and loneliness and anxieties

The way that lestats religious crisis and manic breakdown from Memnoch to blood canticle aligns perfectly with Anne rice’s own religious crisis and sudden shift in her work is so crazy to me😭 and then there’s Anne rice literally using Lestat as a blatant mouth piece to scream at the audience in the iconic blood canticle opening monologue of course, how could we forget. A lot of the time the personal nature of these books makes the technical quality of them worse, but even still it is one of the major reasons why I love them so much. Part of it is that reading something so personal and unfiltered, where u get the impression that the author wasn’t thinking at all about how it would come off to people while writing it, makes it feel almost more real to me? Or more authentic? Reading tvc sometimes makes me feel like I’m reading actual history or personal accounts from real people. And the bad writing and offensiveness and heaps of bullshit and the pages of unrelated tangents adds to this in a way 😭. Like yeah this is exactly what reading a biography by a hundreds of years old vampire would be like lmao.

I love interpreting themes in these books so much because I often feel like Anne rice didn’t place them there on purpose. She had a very “I’ll just write whatever is in my mind and the themes will happen on there own” approach, and they did! and for someone like me analyzing it is super rewarding. Figuring stuff out that the author wasn’t even aware of, basically. Tvc are rich with meaning in a way that only these books are, and the personal nature and the lack of thought into meaning or themes is I think majorly responsible. For me when it comes to fiction, I like to do the work. And Anne rice throwing her personal as hell freak sex vampire yaoi with the most agonizing portrayals of trauma and mental illness ever no editing no forethought out into the world definitely gives me room to do the work 😭

Also, I tend to really only enjoy art if I feel like it is a messy reflection of the creator. I’m not sure why but I can never really get into something unless I can see some of the creators flaws or baggage reflected in the work 😭 I feel like art isn’t rlly art to me if I don’t feel like a know the person who made it a little too well after seeing it. There’s something really special about finding out the worst parts of someone in a book, honestly. I love reading these and being like there is so much wrong with this woman and I know way too much about it 😭 she’s horrible but I’ve lived in her mind and I don’t wanna leave.

I admire in a way Anne rices unhinged abandon with how blatantly vent-like and unfiltered her books were (literally unedited 😭). She got extremely lucky making a career from it, typing out all her insane thoughts and feelings into gay vampires and becoming rich and famous. A girl can only dream for that life, I do that shit for free on a03. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered anything published that has the same energy as tvc in this way. The only thing that comes close would be like, a quotev fan fiction I read for laughs written by a ten year old in 2010 who is unintentionally revealing way too much to me about their semi concerning home life 😭. It’s wonderful! Thank u Anne rice for ur beautiful scary lack of shame u have given me so many things to write about on tumblr

[claireclaymore]

Everlark on movies

or why I just can't hate the movies - Part 1

This post will be polemic, and I am sure everyone will disagree, but I came here to defend romance aspect on the movies.

But first, some important points:

-I do agree the books were totally better while the movies failed in insert romance organically in the storytelling.

-And yes, everlark community is right in be pissed of with the director. He really didn't get the purpose of Peeta and Katniss relationship and that's shows.

-The producers forced the Team Gale and Team Peeta thing to increase the engagement. More Gale and Katniss were their crimes.

That said, what I strongly disagree are following accusations:

-"The movies are Everthorne propaganda and made that ship more popular than the canon one."

-"Peeta and Katniss didn't have chemistry on the movies."

-"On the movies, Katniss was actually in love with Gale, Peeta was rebound."

So this post will cover this fist accusation.

The changes for the love triangule

First movie did insert hits about Gale have a crush on Katniss (the book made this too, but it was implied). In movies Gale is a decent friend (he was there with Prim wait for her, alike on canon), so he is shippable and this create a interesting conflict on the audience, cause her looks like a good match, right?

But then there is Peeta. This guy that happened to be genuinely kind, and was willing to let Katniss win. And in script was implied he did knows it was an act whole time. So in the end of story feels like the audience is strongly divided between two good men, adding the political mess, we do have an exciting cliffhanger.

Then second movies happens and all doubts go away! Again edition cut iconic lines from Peeta, but Josh killed it in all his scenes. Peeta's essential kindness was well portrayed, in my opinion, and made audience really care for him.

It was criminal that they didn't delve deeper into the everlark bed scenes and add new everthorne scenes (that no one asked for), but rewatching it I didn't see much emotions on those kisses (and thanks Liam for having the expressiveness of a door).

In the other hand, the everlark scenes during the games were EVERYTHING! All the drama that was missing in the first film came in full force in the second! The force field scene is so much more theatrical!

And they made the beach kiss sweeter (and personally I love how heartwarming the scene was). I do remember applauding in theater (so... no chemistry my ass)

In short, my reading of the film is that Peeta is not just a cute and passionate friend who Katniss is afraid of hurting by rejecting him. She's falling in love with him. The desperation, the devotion, all of this is perfectly translated in Jennefer's performance. I seriously don't get how someone can see their interactions on arena and think he is the third wheel (and thank you director for don't include Gale's sad face to ruin the moment here).

Feral and in love (overdramatic? overreacted? Yes, but it follows the intensity of Katniss in canon). Will historians say that she is acting like this because of a friend?

Then the two last movies. They finally allowed show Gale being a asshole (I liked that change with calling Peeta a coward, they cut Gale's bullshit in Catching Fire, they had to put in some place). We still have to endure some Gale and Katniss scenes, but again, their ton are pale (basic soundtrack, no creative angles).

But what continues selling the ship is the adversity, the longing. Wherever Peeta appears Katniss just sees him! Gale stay on background or the camera forget him, he is just a desperate man looking at an amazing couple.

You are excellent door Liam!

And all angst, the forbidden love thing make people root even more for Everlark! So no! The movies didnt' sell Everthone or this attempt backfired (or if you disagree, at least see Jennefer isn't on board).

In conclusion, yes the movies made little for the ship, but this little was enough to introduce people to this amazing franchise. The details, the performing, soundtrack, edition all came together to the tip of the iceberg of everlark.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Never Too Late

Summary: Dean’s not too thrilled with the way his life is going and his thirteen year old daughter begins to take notice. After she confronts him he agrees to see a therapist but he’s not the only one that’ll get the help they need...

Pairing: Dad!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, mental health talks, on the run reader

A/N: Enjoy!

_____

Dean’s POV

“Dean,” said Mary from across the table. He hummed and looked around, his dad and Emily already missing from the table. “You feeling okay, honey? You’ve been quieter than normal lately.”

“Yeah. Let me help with the dishes,” he said. He started to gather them up, the sound of the front door shutting nearby.

“Your father was taking her for an ice cream,” she said.

“She doesn’t need ice cream,” he said as he carried the plates into the kitchen.

“She’s thirteen and skinny as a rail. She ate all of her vegetables. She can have an ice cream cone, Dean,” she said, following him in.

“You seem to know how to be a perfect parent. Why don’t you raise her then if I’m doing such a shit job,” he said. Mary stared at him, Dean closing his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Your father and I have had enough of this. Emily is picking up on whatever it is going on with you,” she said.

“I hate my life, that’s what’s going on with me,” he said. “Emily is the one good thing in it and she’s growing up. She wants to spend more time with her friends or go to the mall. Five years, she’s in college and then I just work and save money for her and then that’s it. That’s the rest of my life.”

“You sound depressed, honey,” she said.

“I am not depressed. I’m just tired. I’ve been working a lot of overtime,” he said.

“Dean-”

“Drop it, mom. I’m fine.”

“Dad,” said Emily from the other end of the couch that night. I hummed and kept watching the cooking show, handing her the remote. “No. I…”

“What is it, baby?” he asked, giving her his full attention. She frowned and looked down at the empty space between them.

“You know my friend Pippa? She says her mom gets sad too sometimes. She takes medicine to help her,” she said.

“Emily, I am fine. Don’t-”

“No you’re not. You’re always sad or tired. You barely smile anymore and I think you need to take something to get help too,” she said.

“I am fine,” said Dean.

“Dad, don’t lie! You’re not fine.”

“I’m not taking life advice from a thirteen year old,” he said. She frowned and stood up, storming upstairs. Dean sighed and ran his hands over his face, taking a deep breath when all of a sudden Emily was back in front of him, shoving a book in his lap.

“It’s from the library and it’s by a doctor and it’s about this mental health stuff and you suck at it so read the stupid book,” she said before she took off, her bedroom door slamming this time.

“Em,” said Dean with a deep sigh. “Emi, why do you of all people have to see through my bullshit better than anyone?”

He turned off the TV and took the book up to bed, pausing at her door but figuring it was safer to let her calm down on her own.

He sat down on the edge of his mattress and flipped it open. It wasn’t particularly long, something a middle schooler could understand easy enough.

Half an hour later Dean had shoved the book on the floor and had his head resting on his tucked in knees.

“Dad?” he heard. He turned his head and tried to wipe his face off, Emily walking over.

“Yeah, Em,” he said, not looking at her. She grabbed his cheeks though and turned his face back, Dean not able to hide the emotions he normally kept so in check in front of her. Her eyes instantly welled up and he frowned. “No, Emi, it’s not your fault. Dad’s…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” she said. He pulled her onto the bed and into a big hug, kissing the top of her head. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Rip my heart right out sometimes, I swear,” said Dean, tucking her under his chin. “I’m sorry, baby. This is not your responsibility. This is not your problem at all or nothing you did. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you need medicine?” she asked.

“I need to talk to someone,” he said, closing his eyes. “I needed to talk to someone years ago. Tonight though I’m going to remember that you are a wonderful and amazing person who loves me.”

“You thought I didn’t love you?” she asked, lifting her head up.

“My head was lying to me, baby. I know you do,” he said.

“I’m sorry too, for being mean earlier,” she said.

“Well, you shouldn’t be mean but sometimes people need it, like I did,” he said.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” she asked.

“I think you’re a little old for that,” he said. “But I’ll make an exception tonight. I don’t really want to be alone either.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Y/N POV

“Dean Winchester,” you said, a grumpy looking guy in a tan coat standing up. “Right this way.”

He sighed and followed you back to your office, Dean slipping past you and inside. You took a seat at your chair, Dean sitting down on the couch as far away as possible.

“I don’t bite,” you teased. “I’m Dr. Smith but some of my patients prefer to call me Y/N. Your choice.”

“Mhm,” he hummed.

“Alright,” you said, flipping open your notepad. “What brings you in today, Dean?”

“My thirteen year old daughter cornered me last night and said she thinks I have a problem with my mental health and I know she’s right and I don’t want to be here but I will be here for her,” he said.

“You need to be here for you, Dean. That’s step one,” you said.

“I’m here so my daughter doesn’t worry about me anymore so feed me some happy pills or whatever,” he said.

“Listen. I’ll be upfront about this. I don’t prescribe to my patients, only very rarely and I’m not going to feed you medication to numb you out so you can go about your day. We deal with our shit in this office. You want to do that, great. You don’t, there’s the door,” you said.

“What the fuck kind of shrink are you?” he asked.

“I’m your fucking shrink,” you said with a smile. He stared at you, glancing at the coffee table for a moment. “I’ll take the fact you haven’t stormed out yet a sign that you’d like to stay. Okay. Let’s get down to business then. Why does your daughter think you have an issue with your mental health?”

“Because I do. My entire life has revolved around taking care of someone else and she’s growing up and someday soon, no one will need me,” he said.

“Kids always need their fathers. Shit, mine just helped me paint my shed last weekend,” you said.

“I think this was a mistake,” he said as he got to his feet.

“Kids grow up, Dean. You just told me you think you have a problem. I help with those kinds of problems. Why not try this?” you asked.

“I’m not gonna be coming to therapy every week. I don’t have time for that,” he said.

“There are alternatives. I do home sessions in the evenings in certain cases. But let’s get back to you. Do you ever think of harming yourself?” you asked.

“No. Not me, not anybody,” he said. “I’m not nuts. I’m just tired.”

“Tired. Alright. How about I give you a short survey to fill out and we’ll go from there?”

“Well?” said Dean not long after you’d started to read over his survey answers.

“I think you’re tired,” you said with a smile. “Dean...I think maybe you have some self-worth and esteem issues, maybe a little more than the average person but I think it’s simpler than you think. You’re lonely and don’t make yourself a priority at all in your life. It’s brewing unhappiness which is spilling out everywhere else.”

“So I’m miserable because I’m miserable.”

“You need to start giving a fuck about yourself. If you do, I think you can start to feel better,” you said.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Do it for your daughter.”

He was quiet and glanced down, letting out a deep breath before he nodded.

“Alright then. Now, let’s talk about the best way to do that.”

“Sorry,” said Dean as you pulled on your coat a few hours later. “I didn’t realize it’d gotten so late.”

“It’s what we call an emergency session and it’s totally cool,” you said. “But you can walk me to my car.”

“I was planning on it,” he said with a smile. You hummed and gathered your things, Dean following you out the hallway just as the front door opened and a police officer stepped inside.

“Officer the office is closed for the night but I can give the number for the emergency therapist for your department,” you said, already going over to the receptionist desk.

“No. I’m here on other business,” said the officer, nodding for Dean to leave. You glanced over at him and he raised his chin, looking back at the officer. “Sir, it’s a private matter.”

“I don’t entirely feel all the comfortable leaving her alone here with you,” said Dean.

“I’m a cop. Leave.”

“Dean, you should um, listen to the officer,” you said.

“Why? I’m not breaking any laws,” said Dean.

“I’d like to speak to my wife in private is why,” said the officer.

“Oh,” said Dean before he caught the look on your face. “Still going to have to pass on leaving.”

“What the fuck is this?” said Lance to you. You shut your eyes and you swore he growled. “Get this fuckface nutjob out of here.”

“He is a patient and you’re the fuckface. We’re divorced so get the fuck out of my office,” you said.

“She’s not a shrink,” said Lance to Dean. “She pretends. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N and she is a convicted criminal, a fugitive, and I would not get involved in this buddy.”

“You got any proof?” asked Dean. Lance narrowed his eyes and Dean took a step in front of you. “Didn’t think so. Unless you want to pull a gun on the brother of the assistant DA, I’d get the fuck out.”

“I’ll have a warrant in an hour,” he said before he left. You closed your eyes, Dean’s grunt causing you to flash them open.

“You really a convicted criminal?” he asked.

“I ran away from him because that was him being nice and him being mean is not a great thing and…” you trailed off, Dean nodding at you. “I shot him. Then I ran. We’re from the Dakotas. He doesn’t work here.”

“Yeah, I got that from the out of state badge on him. Let’s get you someplace safe, alright?” he said.

“I have a go bag in my trunk,” you said. “Sorry. I’m actually not a therapist. I took a few psych classes though. Although technically I had a PhD in English so-”

“Yeah, Y/N, let’s stop freaking out and you’re going to get in your car and follow me to my place, okay? I wasn’t lying. My little brother really is the assistant DA. He’ll help you out.”

“Let me get that,” said Dean, taking your backpack from you. You stared at him as you stepped into his foyer, Dean setting the bag down after you’d taken off your coat and shoes. “I’m gonna leave it right by the stairs, alright?”

You nodded and he locked up behind you, an angry stamping coming from around a corner.

“Dad! It’s like eight thirty! I’m starving!” said a teenage girl, her face falling when she saw you. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I was late and make yourself a TV dinner and eat it in your room,” he said as you followed him down the front hall into a kitchen. He opened a drawer and started to flip through some papers, the girl staring at you.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi Emily,” you said. 

“Who are you?”

“Y/N’s a friend,” said Dean, pulling a sheet out. “Emi, make your food and then go to your room. This is grown up stuff.”

“Don’t say that,” she muttered. He sighed and threw his head back.

“Um, how about I make something to eat quick for everyone? I’m sure we’re all hungry,” you said.

“Why?” mumbled Dean in your ear.

“I’m trying not to freak out and she’s hungry and just let me make dinner,” you said. He held up his hands and pulled out his phone, walking around to the other side of the table before he was calling a number. “What would you like Emily?”

“Dad was going to make sriracha chicken,” she said.

“How about macaroni and cheese?” you said with a smile. “That’s nice and simple.”

“Whatever,” she said, hopping up on the counter and pointing out where to get the pot and food from.

Twenty minutes later you had a few bowls of food on the table, Dean tapping his finger on the wood as he kept glancing at the door.

“How was therapy?” asked Emily.

“Eventful. Also, please don��t discuss that in front of other people,” he said.

“But she’s your therapist,” she said, poking at your lanyard with your ID badge, still hanging around your neck.

“It’s complicated,” said Dean.

“Is he okay?” she asked you. Dean rolled his eyes and shoveled some food in his mouth. “Please?”

“Hey,” said a tall man, coming in through the front door quickly. “I got over as fast as I could.”

“Thanks, Sam. Emily, finish your food in your room,” said Dean. She groaned but left, Sam giving you a smile before he sat down in her spot.

“I’m Sam, Dean’s brother. So I talked to the DA and we can get you in witness protection,” said Sam.

“It won’t work,” you said. “He has friends in there.”

“You did shoot him,” said Sam.

“He tried to kill me,” you said.

“Yeah, your family and friends have always been on your side about his abuse and all that. Our problem is that...you’ve both broken laws, you and him. The DA had an alternative option. He owes me a huge favor which is why we’re...bypassing legality in this,” said Sam.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means a new identity. Legitimate birth certificate, tax returns, the whole nine yards. The only catch is it’s not going to be ready for a few days,” said Sam.

“I called you to help her, not make her run again,” said Dean. “Since when is shooting someone that’s trying to kill you against the law?”

“It’s not. I didn’t say her crimes were bad. It’s just how the other side would spin it. You wouldn’t get jail time. We just don’t want you near him. This isn’t ever getting to a court. We’ve seen this before Dean. He gets her, she keeps running or somehow we get lucky and he gets taken out of the equation,” said Sam.

“If I get a new ID, I can get farther than before. Keep a low-profile, don’t stay in one place too long, I get it. Please. I’ll take it,” you said. Sam nodded.

“I’ll keep you updated. I’ll get you a hotel room for the next few-”

“He’s a cop. He’s going to look at all the hotels and motels, Sammy,” said Dean. “Let her stay here.”

“You have a thirteen year old daughter. You gave this guy your name basically,” said Sam. “The knight in shining armor act is over. Y/N, come on.”

“Really, Dean, please it’s okay,” you said as you stood up. “You did more than enough. Um, I...I really do hope you feel better. Take care of yourself. Please.”

“I’ll try,” said Dean. “Take care of yourself too, Y/N.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Two Years Later

You rung the doorbell and heard some movement inside after a few seconds. You held your hood to keep it from flying off in the wind and rain. The door opened and the air immediately was cozy and smelled like cinnamon and something really good tasting.

“Hi,” said Emily. She was taller than you remembered and her hair was darker but you smiled and she cocked her head. “Y/N?”

“Hi Emily. Is your dad home?” you asked. She nodded and waved you inside. You took a step in on the mat only so she could shut the door and stop the water from spilling in. 

“Dad! Your therapist you have a crush on is here!” she called, wandering back down the hall to the back of the house. 

“I do not have a crush on Dr. Benson. He’s also very happily married,” said Dean. He was smiling as he came into view, freezing when he saw you by the door. “Y/N.”

“Hey,” you said. You gave a tiny wave and he stared at you. “I uh, wanted to stop by for a second if that was okay.”

“Yeah. Em. Go watch the rolls in the oven for me, please,” asked Dean. She hummed as she walked out of view, Dean coming into the foyer and looking you over. “You look good.”

“Thanks. I um, straight off the bat I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t safe. Lance is no longer in the picture.”

“How no longer in the picture?”

“I don’t need to pretend anymore. I’m back to being Y/N,” you said. “Not even a mark on my permanent record.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he.”

“Yes. Started seeing a young girl, barely out of highschool. It got messy. Her mother is a police officer. Things escalated and he got contact information for me, put it out that if I didn’t come forward, he’d do some bad stuff to the girl. I contacted the mother and things got really out of hand but I tried to help so they sweeped everything I did wrong too under the rug. I’m normal again.”

“I kept going to therapy,” said Dean. “I found a really good guy. Things are better around here too.”

“Emily looks like she’s growing up,” you said.

“Too fast. Would you want to stick around for a minute? If you don’t have plans,” he said.

“No, my plans are wide open. I don’t even have a job or house right now. I am very open book,” you said with a smile.

“Well we have cinnamon rolls about to come out of the oven and taco soup on the stove if you’d like to join us to watch some football,” he said.

“Taco soup?” you asked. 

“It’s good. I promise,” he said. He took your coat off of you and hung it on the hook, letting you slip out of your boots before guiding you to the back of the house. Emily was on the counter eating a spoonful of icing, Dean rolling his eyes at her. “Y/N’s gonna hang out for a bit if that’s cool.”

“He so has a crush on you,” she said.

“Would you like to be grounded?”

“You’ve never grounded me,” she said. A fluffy dog came running into the kitchen, barking at her as Dean crossed his arms. “Come on, Rufus. Of course you wait until it’s pouring to have to go potty.”

She hopped off and went off with the dog, Dean smiling as you cocked your head.

“What?” he asked.

“You went full blown happy single dad,” you said. “I bet you didn’t want the dog and now he sleeps in your bed.”

“No, not true. He sleeps with Em half the time,” he laughed. He got out an extra bowl and shrugged. “For a fake therapist, you were a pretty good one. I’m not perfect but I haven’t been as low as I was that night since.”

“Me either,” you said.

“Why’d you really stop by?”

“I wanted to say thank you. If you ever need anything, it’s yours.”

“How about a date?” he said. “I felt something. You felt something. One date and we call it even?”

“Throw in a cinnamon roll and you have a deal,” you said. He smirked and you both heard a door open, a soaking wet dog running into the kitchen and shaking off.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” said Dean. “Emily!”

“I know!” she said, trotting in with a big towel and picking up the dog in it. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said as she walked him back where they came from. “The daughter thing...that doesn’t freak you out?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Your rolls are burning.”

“Crap,” he said, spinning around and taking the pan out. He sighed and you laughed. “I got another batch in the fridge if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t mind waiting at all, Dean.”

______

[sysmedsaresexist]

Let's talk about stances and personal growth

System safe (yes, even those ones), CDDs first

I really hope you'll stick with this one until the end.

My follower count has been fluctuating more than my anxiety levels the last few months as I try to figure out how to put into words what my own stance is.

I've brought in mods who have the same... I guess medical understandings as me but different philosophical and tolerance views to try to help myself grow and learn more.

Apparently, this was a bad thing to do. Who knew.

It's really sad how much pushback I've gotten from both sides. Anti endos in my inbox like, "how dare you give an inch, you traitor," and pro/endos like, "wait, are you anti endo? You lied to me."

But the truth is something that's ever changing and evolving, and figuring out the key to syscourse was realizing that you can't argue against self perception.

You can still have discussions that allow both sides to grow their understandings, knowledge, and opinions, though, and I'm not sure why my community seems to be turning on me for showing kindness to others.

I wish people would just accept me as I am and talk to me without trying to assign a "side" to me. I have information. You have information. Why don't we share it and both be better people?

There are cruel idiots that I don't agree with on both sides, I'm not loyal to anything or anyone except the desire to spread accurate information on CDDs.

CDD systems are my priority. Not sure when I was unclear about that.

I will always have the best interests of CDD systems at heart, but protecting them doesn't need to be at the cruel expense of others who are talking about a way of seeing themselves and the world in a different way.

This isn't new, any mental disorder comes with this very same challenge.

Anyone who has ever had to mask anything about themselves has experienced this on some level. Something about you just doesn't quite jive with what other people are describing. You don't see gender the same way, you don't take in knowledge the same way, you can't mentally visualize like other people, you don't have that kind of imagination, you don't have that kind of memory, you don't-- it's never ending.

Even the concept of consciousness and multiple selves has been around since the dawn of forever. People are incredibly multifaceted, it's not out of the realm of possibility (in fact, it's documented) that there are people that are more in tune with that aspect of themselves. People with BPD struggle with this, frequently giving names to the parts of themselves that seem beyond their control, but we don't condemn them, so what's different in syscourse?

Syscourse is happening because the two communities have intersected in complicated ways-- in my opinion, this centers around shared language and spaces that I don't think should be shared. I don't believe that the experiences are the same, and I think shared language hurts both sides. I think this is the root of all syscourse. If you've ever said, "if they would just stay out of our spaces, if they would just use different words--" Yeah, me too. Same hat. So why do you block me, as if we're that different?

Other people might think the root is something different. No big deal. I'd like to meet and talk to those people and grow my understanding. I want to see more sides and arguments.

Isn't that terrible of me?

In this way, I am both pro and anti endo, simultaneously. I'm not here to argue about self perception, but I am here to argue against misinformation and overlap in information that confuses and harms those with CDDs.

I see the tags filled with people who act the same way I did when I first started my blog, and I want to shake them and drag them into the front seat with me and say, "Let me save you so much bullshit. This isn't an argument that can be won."

I was incredibly lucky. One of the most well-known, respected syscoursers to both the anti and pro sides was kind enough to do that to me.

And looking back, it's almost hilarious how they just... let me be the little shit that I was being, while respectfully and kindly sharing resources and information. They're way more patient than I am. I am forever grateful to them.

But what I realized, after a while, with my mentor's gentle help, was that I wasn't understanding what the argument was, or why it was happening, or what was actually being said to me.

And it took being kinder and showing some humility and being brave enough to go into other spaces to find those answers.

And it's helped me fight more effectively for those with CDDs.

... And endogenic systems.

Because how can you argue if you can't understand what they're saying or where they got the idea from?

And it's made me a kinder, better person to everyone else who's just struggling to get through their one shot at life in a way that makes them happy and fulfilled.

It's like everyone forgot that we actually need to have conversations in order to create change.

And that change in yourself isn't always a bad thing.

#pro syscourse conversation

#pro respect in syscourse

[theculturedmarxist]

These days I mostly avoid being around art spaces and the dwindling population of people that frequent them. This is for the same reason you might duck an old friend who’s been transformed by time and circumstance into a thing that you scarcely recognize. Sometimes it’s better to remember them as they were.

I broke my rule the other night to attend the closing of a theater I built long ago, and it was every bit as sad and disappointing as I would have expected. Hardly anyone came to send her off, and the ones that did could muster nothing better than a couple of beers and off to bed. The whole thing was over by 11.

“Who are you voting for,” a pudgy, bearded, graying Xer, asked me before I left. He was wearing a kind of middle-aged bohemian get-up, right down to the hipster hat, that made him look like he’d just stepped out of a commercial for a new Type II diabetes drug. I’m down to talk my doctor about . . .

“I’m writing in Dave Chappelle,” I said.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the part of his brain that knew how to process a dissenting opinion. Not finding one he sputtered, “But you’re not for Trump.”

“No.”

Then a skinny, wan, pale guy with sunken eyes, and long, greasy black hair, sober as a judge, like someone who’d acquired all the physical attributes of heroin addiction, without ever having had any of the fun, said, “Then you have to vote for Biden, or Trump wins.”

“So what,” I said.

And that was when they both shit themselves and I had to do the whole red-pill/blue-pill thing. By the time that was over, everyone else had gone and I followed suit. Leaving the building for the last time, I thought of livelier days when the whole place, the whole block, the whole city, was full of life and crazy energy.

How did this happen? How did we get here?

This is an article I’ve started, abandoned, and started again a few times over the years. That’s partly because I still had some hope when I began that I might one day be able to return to my craft as a theater director without revealing my opinions. But that was before Due Dissidence had a YouTube show. Now I very visibly express ideas 3-4 times a week that would get me professionally and socially cancelled in about 5 minutes as soon as anyone from that crowd took the time to check out the channel, which of course they would.

Another thing that’s kept this one at the bottom of the digital drawer is lingering affection for a lot of people who are still making the music, lighting the lights, and all that. I have dear friends in the arts and this is going to hurt some of their feelings. Except for the ones who regularly DM to thank me for saying what they can’t without risking career suicide. Those will be greatly cheered by this piece, in the way of a bullied child watching their tormentor take a hard fist to the nose, so I guess in the end that part’s a wash. Here goes.

In the 8 years since the election of doom that transformed me from the kind of guy who wanted to have a beer with Rachael Maddow, to the kind of guy who would protest her book reading, I’ve had lots of debates with lots of people.  Enough to notice a distinct pattern

Conservatives will generally keep it on the issues; they may not agree with you, but as a rule they aren’t going to go right to ad hominem attacks on your character.  Liberals can go either way: they may debate the issues with you, but they’re just as likely to attack you personally as a closet Republican, a Russian plant, or if you happen to be a white man, that’s kind of their go-to.  But the absolute worst people you can find yourself engaging with are members of the arts community.  I know this because I’ve been a member of it since at the tender age of 19, I bullshitted my way into a directing gig at the still extant 13th Street Repertory Theater. 

The artists I worked with then as a kid from Queens dazzled by the bohemian world I had infiltrated wouldn’t recognize the artists of today, and I suspect they wouldn’t like them all that much.  Heirs to a 60’s counter-culture ethos of distrust for authority and institutions, and to an older tradition of the artist-intellectual, they generally thought of all politicians as dishonest psychopaths, and spent more time discussing Kafka than the evils of Soviet Russia, which occupied the same position of public enemy #1 that its successor state does today.  And lest the wokeratti immediately jump to its aforementioned go-to, the scene was far more substantively diverse than what you might find at a theater or a gallery today.  They were gay and straight, old and young, black and white and brown, and in a major departure from the current moment, both penniless and well to do.  There were artists living rent free in the loft above the theater, others renting $250 apartments in pre-hipster Williamsburg who had to walk across the bridge to get to rehearsals for lack of train fare, and still others living comfortably on the Upper West Side.  If there was a failing it was in a tendency towards pretentiousness: when a middle-aged woman pronounced confidently at a post-rehearsal dinner that the principal crisis of the modern age was the “post-Nietzschean vacuum,” I almost laughed in her face.  No one had that problem in my native Flushing, and I suspected that was true most places.  But the problem wasn’t racism, sexism, or homophobia-expressing those sorts of views would have been just about the only thing that could have gotten you ejected in an atmosphere where pretty much anything went, and it was that way in the arts community for as long as I was a part of it.

Generally, I like to heavily source everything I write, ‘cause when you’re offering controversial opinions, you had better cross all your t’s and such.  But because the arts are such a distinct subculture and the kinds of institutions that have the means to conduct a wide survey on questions like: what class background do artists usually come from, or, when did artists start to favor censorship, never would, I must of necessity rely on my personal observations and speculations.  Which makes this, by definition, a personal essay, so take it as you will. 

I’m starting from the premise that something has gone very wrong when you have an American arts community that tends to be politically conservative in the sense of being to the right of general sentiment in the Western world on class and economics; that mindlessly supports politicians like Joe Biden and Hillary Clinton who’s records are at odds with even the identitarian issues that they claim to care about, and that sees de-platforming and cancelling figures like Joe Rogan as a legitimate tactic, never considering the idea that once you let that genie out of the bottle, no one will be more vulnerable to having it turned against them than artists.  I’ve given a lot of thought to how a bohemian scene of intellectuals and misfits turned into something resembling a PTA meeting in Scarsdale. This is what I came up with:

I will concede this to the painfully woke white people that dominate the arts even as they lately denounce their own position: rich white people are the crux of the problem, with the emphasis being on “rich” rather than “white,” as some would have it. The low to no pay circumstances of most creatives are beside the point, even though many of them will point to this as evidence of their moral authority to speak on matters of poverty and marginalization. If “artist” isn’t a Professional Managerial Class job, what is it? It sure ain’t factory work. The pretense of artists to social disenfranchisement calls to mind John Goodman’s line in Barton Fink, where his serial killing salesman tells John Turturro’s slumming writer, “You’re just a tourist with a typewriter, Barton. I live here.”

Most of these folks are just playing dress up for a while before they pack it in for Grad School and take up residence in the same sedate suburban enclaves from whence they came. Just as in every other sphere of American society, the arts are, and always have been, dominated by these kinds of middle and upper-middle class, mostly white people, whose sensibilities reflect that reality.  The higher up the food chain you go, the more evident that becomes.  The same exact advantages of money and connections that favor people in every other industry, favor those who attempt a career in the arts.  Perhaps even more so because the standards are so nebulous.  If you’re a doctor, or an attorney, you either do your job well, or you don’t.  If you’re an artist, the quality of your work is subjective which leaves a lot of room for just hooking up the people you relate to, which in the arts is going to mean a lot of rich white people, hooking up other rich white people.  The net effect of that is, if a lot of bad ideas are coming out of the suburbs, that’s going to be reflected in the work.

When the PMC’s were more rooted in the New Deal, with its focus on class and economics, as was the case when I first entered the scene, so were the arts. Now that they’ve turned to neoliberalism in their economics, and the post-modern turn has unmoored their social activism from observable reality, we have an arts community that has nothing to say about the current moment that strays an inch from what you might hear on MSNBC. This is why, as just one example, in a moment of social strife and economic dislocation, the Artistic Director of Connecticut’s Long Wharf Theater recently seized on the idea of a Black Trans Women at the Center festival as the best use of his platform and resources. The company lost their home of 55 years shortly thereafter.

Whereas in the 30’s a good many artists responded to the Depression by adopting a Marxist-Leninist posture and playwrights like Clifford Odets, (the writer being satirized by the Cohens in Barton Fink), and later Arthur Miller and Rod Serling, began writing plays for the first time that placed working class people “at the center,” this generation of artists greets the moment with only contempt for the struggles of working people, seeing them as reactionary Trumpers who sadly lack the education and sophistication to realize that the economy is great, incremental change is the best we can hope for, and getting all bent out of shape about books full of graphic cocksucking in your child’s middle-school library is totally uncool. Rather than to represent the struggles of average people, these artists offer them nothing but derision and when they do bother to acknowledge them, it is only to portray them as wrong-think culture war enemies.

Adding to the problem, poor people who manage to get to college usually don’t decide to major in something that’s going to almost guarantee that they end up poor.  Being an artist is a luxury most people from economically disadvantaged environments just don’t think they can afford.  You’re a lot more likely to choose it if you have a trust fund to fall back on.  So, essentially you end up with a scene dominated by trust fund babies, no matter what identity group they align with.  Their politics proceed from there.  All these artists going on about white privilege is partly a case of, to use a phrase with which any theater aficionado will be familiar, “Methinks thou dost protest too much.” And as with Diversity Equity and Inclusion efforts in other sectors, this results in pretenses at promoting “representation” amounting to nothing more than trying to find more black and brown people from similar backgrounds to the whites that are already there, and who consequently share the same attitudes. Barracks and Michelles are always welcome, but the Hueys and Assatas make these folks deeply uncomfortable. The theater party I walked into last week, was no more racially diverse than the scene I knew in the 80’s (perhaps a bit less), but it was palpably less wide-ranging in class perspectives.

Another reason the censorious Victorian lady in high dudgeon pose that has become the liberal class default setting over the past 10 years or so, has had so much appeal to this group in particular, probably has to do with the psychological afflictions common to artists, combined with the insecurities inherent in the profession.  This is something else I’d love to see a study on: common psychological illnesses in artists, but lacking such a study, I can only tell you what I’ve observed.  Most people don’t choose a career in the arts because they’re very secure, contented and happy sorts.  The level of personal psychological torment that’s driven them to such an irrational career choice varies, but deep neurosis, emotional neediness, and pervasive self-doubt are kind of a base line.  I do not except myself from this analysis: my head is the kind of snake pit that Indiana Jones has nightmares about.  Proceeding from there, you’ll find a fair amount of narcissism, borderline personality disorder, manic-depression, and just plain old depression-depression.  These qualities are not at all ameliorated by constant rejection and criticism, which is kind of the nature of the beast.  In some ways the people who are attracted to the arts are the least capable of enduring its vicissitudes without severe psychological damage.  So, you have a bunch of deeply insecure, neurotic people, trying to make their way in a profession where the rules are vague and the agreed upon standards of successful work are non-existent, and then you hand them a secular religion that gives them not only rules and standards, but a weapon with which to bludgeon their critics as -ists, phobes, and reactionary heathens.  That’s like throwing crackers at a starving man.  Naturally they jumped on it en masse, without ever thinking through the consequences.  Critical Social Justice gave artists something they haven’t had since Duchamp signed a urinal and called it a sculpture: certainty.  And this group is far too ignorant of the past to know why their forbears rejected the kind of formalism that these standards impose, and what the price paid in quality, creativity and individual expression will be in the long run. Insofar as they embrace Duchamp’s lesson, it is only in using the precedent set by his famous prank to avoid being interrogated on the basis of quality, talent and craftsmanship.

Which brings us to my final observation.

I’m going to let you in on a secret, although if you’ve ever been dragged to a “new interpretation” of Hamlet on the Lower East Side, back when we still did that sort of thing, you probably already know: talent is rare.  That’s why we call it talent.  If it was common, we’d call it something else.  I’ll give you a breakdown from something I have a fair amount of expertise in-auditioning actors.  If you audition 100 actors, it’s going to go something like this: about 10% will be so God-awful you have to wonder where they got the encouragement; around 60% will be passable in the way of people who have had a lot of training; 20% will be very good; 8% will be excellent; a final 2% will be exceptional-in other words, talented.  So, based on my admittedly subjective observations, only about 30% of the people who call themselves “artists” have any business pursuing it.  And only 2% of those are really gifted.  So, the scene is, and always has been, mostly populated by hangers-on who are only one 30th Birthday away from packing it in and getting a Masters in Social Work.  The appeal of a set of standards that remove the basis of evaluating work from its quality to its adherence to a set of clearly defined political beliefs is obvious.  If you can’t out-talent people, you can at least out-woke them.

None of this is to say that representation in the arts isn’t a problem or wasn’t a problem until these meddling kids started performing their virtue for likes and clicks.  It’s always been a problem, particularly at the level of management and project leadership, in the arts as in every other sector of society.  I would posit that DEI efforts are a solution in search of a problem, only in that part of the reason for that lack of representation, has always been a lack of artists of color walking in the door, which in turn has to do with the economic realities I’ve mentioned.  There aren’t a lot of poor white people walking in the door either; I’ve owned 5 theaters in NYC across three decades, and I never met another theater owner or director, who grew up on welfare.  In my experience, that lack of representation never had to do with virulent racism in the arts community. It always had to do with class realities and broader issues of structural racism society-wide that stop POC from ever making it to the door to be considered.  If you were paying any kind of attention, that lack of diversity was always an embarrassment, but you can’t work with people who simply aren’t there because of societal problems that reach far beyond the arts.  If we really want to do something about this, we need to go out into impoverished and marginalized communities, provide training and encouragement to young people in particular, then offer them jobs in our theaters and galleries, instead of only looking for POC from similar backgrounds to the people who are already there in order to assuage their white guilt.  Until we see arts institutions doing that, we will know DEI efforts in the arts for what they are: one more example of rich white people protecting the privileges of their class, even if they have to outwardly denounce them in order to do it.

In the end, the arts scene as it exists today and the institutions that support it may have simply become too sclerotic, out of touch, and irrelevant for saving. The future is with activist-artists grown naturally from their communities, using new technologies and platforms to draw attention to concerns and realities that no gatekeeping clique of PMC’s will ever understand or think to explore. As our self-appointed creators of culture have abandoned us, it may be time that we abandon them in turn, leaving their venues to close as they should, leaving their 501c’s to go bankrupt, as they are doing, and taking the space their collapse opens up to create something new of our own.

[ca-suffit]

Before I came to know your account, I used to follow NCL

What I know about what she used to say until that point is that she won't reveal what she means by PoC because that could lead to doxxing (because people could find out where she lives).

And about that tweet, I know she said she apologized and that it was bad wording because she was trying to be sarcastic like sad laughing or something like that and not insensitive but came out wrong, due to her difficulty in signaling tone of voice, etc, because she's autistic.

I mean, I can see that making sense if true (I'm white&autistic myself tho, so maybe I'm just being too accomplice, I apologize if that's the case), but still she is always very defensive about everything that matters, super friendly with those racists, have blocked you, etc etc etc.

So, if she actually didn't mean any harm, why act like that? Why favour those people? Why is she more worried about defending her "reputation" and being offended when called racist than actually trying to do right by the stuff she's been called out for? Seems hypocritical, at best.

ur asking the right questions tbh. bcuz ppl's actions will show u who they are. her words are always performative. that's everyone here from this group. nobody rly takes any accountability or shows they've grown from mistakes. they wouldn't be fighting against this account if that was true, bcuz all I'm ever doing is showing them their own words. I've never seen NCL or any of them change anything, only make excuses. elon musk says he's autistic too, who gives a fuck (that's not meant against u btw, it's a general comment on this kind of behavior). lots of autistic ppl don't act like him. u can tell who is using any identity as an excuse to keep doing shitty things and it's an age old tactic for all kinds of bigots to use.

it's also funny she's concerned w doxxing when it's *her* but doesn't gaf when it's a trans person who isn't even here anymore, who literally was directly tied to the post she was making. someone else who dealt with fandom harassment and still is, even not being here?? who cares obviously, it's not her.

u notice also how many of this group she/they themselves too but have no problem making ableist jokes about this same trans guy, as if that isn't often the most obvious way ppl are usually transphobic (implying being transgender is a mental illness)?? (the last screencap, that's obviously nalyra's writing). u would think there'd be some care for that topic from ppl who claim to be trans themselves. like the autism or "poc" thing, nothing is ever a "shield" from criticism. so many white fandom ppl work against their own groups too, only bringing out these identities to protect themselves but saying everyone else in that group who isn't agreeing with them can get killed, who cares.

it's always all only what they think makes *them* look best. they only care about their own groups and act like a cult to keep each other in line, then also agree to go after the same targets so it sounds like there's a "true" story there without ever providing evidence. they cry the loudest about everything when there's never anything anyone sees of *them* getting bullied.

they also purposely get themselves close to the cast and crew so they can hold ppl hostage into not disagreeing with them or else ur "out" and now Sam Reid won't know u exist or whatever the fuck.

it's not worth it to stay around them for that shit. they do not care about anyone and this bullshit of her building "community" is white fandom propaganda bcuz she's obviously only in this for her own reputation. she wouldn't have issues with my account if she was interested in fucking "community." I'm flat out telling her the issues and I *know* she's been told for *years* too and she's intentionally ignoring it. so ppl can cry all the want that I can also directly tell cast and crew shit too, it's not some special off limits thing only for white fandom. I'm not here to be liked anyway, I'm here to call this shit out and that's exactly what I've been doing. they're scared as hell too which is why every time I do smething they *rly* hate, they try to hit back as hard as they can but it's the same tired shit. 6 months and no creativity bcuz all they are is pathetic nobodies, that's why they don't have reputations in the fandom as anything but annoying, boring assholes.