rheilea

[rheilea]

full offense but none of you would have ever survived fanfiction.net in 2009

[rheilea]

No one reblogs on tumblr anymore.

No one leaves comments on Ao3 anymore.

Seriously people the lack of fandom interaction these days makes me genuinely depressed, it never used to be like this, makes me wonder what's the point of coming online to do anything anymore.

Reblog a post so other people can see it.

Leave a comment so the author doesn't feel like giving up.

Fandom cannot live on Likes or Kudos alone.

[rheilea]

Wait are you really pro-ship?

back in my day we just called it minding your own business

[rheilea]

[rheilea]

okay so picture this.

You're a man named Jim Steinman. You are one of the most prolific songwriters of the 80s. In your spirit, output and essence, you are eternally popping a wheelie on a motorcycle while a hot half-naked woman clings to you and bats wheel in the sky above.

You wrote a song in which Meatloaf plays a hideously disfigured hunk who steals a nubile lady back to his crumbling manor and introduces her to the pleasures of magic lesbian group sex.

You wrote a song in which Celine Dion sings as Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, dancing with Cathy's corpse on a beach in the moonlight; a scene which you, Jim Steinman, believe should have been in the book. (The moors of Wuthering Heights are landlocked, but you, Jim Steinman, are too fucking real to care about that.)

You wrote the song for the opening scene of the movie Streets of Fire, in which evil leatherdaddy Willem Dafoe leads his malefic motorcycle crew into a concert to abduct Diane Lane while she's wearing a skintight satin jumpsuit.

You wrote a song in which Bonnie Tyler wanders a haunted boarding school as literal demon twinks gyrate at her out of the fog.

There is no peak of goth camp that you, Jim Steinman, have not summited, no horny energy you have not tapped. They say that Alexander the Great wept when he saw there were no more worlds to conquer. But you, Jim Steinman, are not Alexander the Great. You, Jim Steinman, are better. You, Jim Steinman, have vision.

You take your most successful song, the song everyone knows, the most big-haired, white dress, gothic arches, doves flying, possessed choir boys chanting, bombastic song you have, and think: what if this, but with vampires.

And so you change the lyrics to be about death and infinity and a powerful bloodsucking lord seducing a girl who is ALL ABOUT IT, and then toss off a whole musical for this song to be the centerpiece to, and the musical is bad but it's also a weird hit that's been staged in fourteen countries and revived seven times, because nothing has ever whipped as campily, as ridiculously, as perfectly as this:

It never takes off in America. A prophet is without honor in his own land. But that doesn't matter. How could it matter? You are perhaps the most creatively self-actualized man who has ever lived. Look at that vampire. He's coming in hot and a hundred Venetian nuns gave their lives to make his ludicrously capacious lace sleeves. Look at that girl. She was born in a fog machine. She wore her best red velvet cape. She's down bad. She's singing Total Eclipse of the Heart the whole time.

You are Jim Steinman, and you have reached apotheosis.

[rheilea]

"what do we do about people who fake disabilities to get ssi" we throw them a fucking party for pulling off the most difficult and unrewarding grift of all time. literally i don't care

[rheilea]

Writing a scene involving unrepentant murder feels like going home. #justdarkbrotherhoodthings

[rheilea]

[rheilea]

Do you think Neloth built Tel Mithryn in the same way Elsa built her castle in Frozen?

[rheilea]

[rheilea]

Fic Update: Road to Nowhere - Chapter 7

They spent the following day tending to the wounded. Shadowheart got Kostya back on his feet first, and they worked together to heal Gale and Lae’zel. Once they exhausted their magic, they relied on more mundane methods: bandages, potions, and rest. Wyll was in decent shape with only a few bruises and a cut on his right arm, and he was out gathering herbs for poultices.

Astarion spent the afternoon lounging on the porch of the apothecary’s shop. The branches of a tall, twisting river birch spread over the remains of the shop’s courtyard. Sunlight and shadow danced upon the ground as Astarion sat up and stretched. Deciding he’d idled long enough, he gathered his bow and arrows and headed to the forest. It smelled of damp leaves and new life, but beyond that, there was death and decay. The goblins had turned the countryside into an abattoir. Astarion would be impressed if the reek didn’t call him back to Cazador’s side.

He was growing weary of his troubled thoughts, especially when he should be quite pleased with himself. Kostya was practically eating out of his hand after a few heated glances, clever words, and an offer of friendship. An accord between a cleric and a vampire was unheard of, and he should be applauding himself on a job well done. Still, he couldn’t ignore the sinking sensation in his gut. This dance, this flirtation, it felt too familiar.

It felt like Cazador’s bidding.

[Keep reading at Archive of Our Own]

[rheilea]

my singing voice is good for showers and mornings in the kitchen and drunken nights and lullabies for babies who need sleep and im okay with this

[rheilea]

My cats have this meow that means "please come with me to fix this" after which they'll lead me to the problem in question, usually a empty (or 'empty') food bowl or a closed door they want open. They look at the 'problem', they look back at me, clear message.

What fascinates me is how this illustrates what they percieve as being in the realm of my 'power.' I control the food, I control the door, sure, but my cats love to sit on the balcony in the sun, and it has happened plenty of times that on a rainy day they come get me, go to the balcony and show me... the rain. "Please fix this" they say. "Please get rid of the wet"

"Silly kitty," I say, "I can't control the rain." I then walk into the shower and turn on the rain.

[rheilea]

My boy spoke better then any mf who reads

[rheilea]

When a person with ADHD complains of severe anxiety, I recommend that the clinician not immediately accept the patient’s label for her emotional experience. A clinician should say, “Tell me more about your baseless, apprehensive fear,” which is the definition of anxiety. More times than not, a person with ADHD hyperarousal will give a quizzical look and respond, “I never said I was afraid.” If the patient can drop the label long enough to describe what the feeling is like, a clinician will likely hear, “I am always tense; I can’t relax enough to sit and watch a movie or TV program. I always feel like I have to go do something.” The patients are describing the inner experience of hyperactivity when it is not being expressed physically.

At the same time, people with ADHD also have fears that are based on real events in their lives. People with ADHD nervous systems are consistently inconsistent. The person is never sure that her abilities and intellect will show up when they are needed. Not being able to measure up at the job or at school, or in social circles is humiliating. It is understandable that people with ADHD live with persistent fear. These fears are real, so they do not indicate an anxiety disorder.

holy SHIT

[rheilea]

[rheilea]

Between work and studying and life in general, it looks like I won't have any time left to complete this before my big trip, so I think I'll just post what I've got. This is pre-game, a few decades into becoming a spawn.