#anyway like. there definitely are some pieces of media that are shitty & should be shamed out of existence

[equalseleventhirds]

actually every white person who acts like they’re morally superior for ‘never having liked’ a racist piece of media (whether bcos there’s racism in the media or someone involved in making it was ~revealed~ to be racist), or who goes on about ‘you’re a bad person for watching/enjoying any media made by a white person’

is legally obligated to do AT LEAST one of the following

write an essay displaying a thorough understanding of the racism inherent in our society, academia, and the entertainment industry, and how that provides more resources and connections to white creators, thus making it easier for white creators to effectively create and advertise their work, for other white creators to find work with them, and for fandom to find and consume their work, and that this is a MUCH bigger & more systematic issue than ‘small groups of mostly-white people who all attended the same classes made some popular indie media’ or ‘more people are finding and consuming white-made media’ (which is more readily available/better advertised by the industry). pinpoint the larger powers at work and provide suggestions on how to rectify this besides ‘well maybe if People Just Made POC-Led Media Popular’. 7000 words at minimum. i will be grading.

actively uplift, recommend, and participate in fandom for media made by people of color WITHOUT saying some variation of ‘watch to make a racist mad’ or ‘well if you were REALLY anti-racist you’d watch this’ or comparing it to whichever piece of white-made media you really hate lately. talk about the actually well-done parts of the storyline and characters, not just ‘this is by poc’ and leave it at that. show that you actually LOVE this media and are not boosting it to Seem Woke. (seek out media actually CREATED by people of color. writers. directors. we’ve already seen how racist white ppl will hire a couple of actors of color and then be TERRIBLE. i mean do definitely support actors too but.... come on, aren’t you so fucking special in ur media consumption?)

pay me myself personally like idk $20 so i, a person of color, can continue my pursuit of a degree in making entertainment media, hopefully not only learning skills but making the necessary connections to find a job in the industry upon graduation.

(note that all my fellow poc are exempt from these requirements, for obvious reasons. this is Just For Fucking White People.)

[floraliaison]

[ melodrama ] ― track i | homemade dynamite

political au. ushijima wakatoshi x fem! reader.

3.1 k 

masterlist. next.

If there’s any one word you would prefer people to describe you as, it would have to be unquestionably loyal.

After all, it’s just past seven, and you haven’t yet drunk enough whiskey as you would like to, but when Oikawa tells you about a new guy you must hate, you don’t even think twice before agreeing.

He shifts the drink in his hand, ice cubes clinking together while he side-eyes the group of men from across the veranda, no doubt burning holes into the back of his intended target’s head as he mutters, “And there he is.”

You whip your head to the right, not caring enough about subtlety because this is your house and you can and will look at whoever you damn please.

His directions don’t really help much, you soon realize, because there are a hundred and one of Eita’s friends huddled around the end of the buffet table where the drinks are located.

“There are a bunch of ‘he’s over there, Oiks. Which one?” you hiss under your breath, craning your neck to see if you can pick anyone out from the crowd.

There’s Leon, Kenjiro, Hayato, and a handful of other people you recognize but can’t recall the names of. All that matters is that they’re all annoying, and they’re all here.

You’d think Oikawa’s taste in men has improved in the six years you’ve been gone, but if he actually says it’s one of them then you’ve apparently thought wrong.

“The tall one, Y/N,” Oikawa says as though this is the most obvious thing in the world. His rings glint in the dim light as he discreetly points at one in the far back. “The one with the white jacket.”

Finally, you spot whoever it is he’s referring to, and the next thing out of your mouth is a crisp “What the fuck?”

Oikawa snorts in derision – why he would when he’s the laughingstock in this particular situation, you’ll never know, but that still doesn’t stop you from echoing the sound back.

“I leave my best friend alone for a few years, and when I come back you’re suddenly all broken-hearted about Ushijima Wakatoshi?” You say, equal parts incredulous and disappointed. Said best friend only shrugs in response, chugging the rest of his rum before slamming the empty glass down on the table.

“Save it, princess. Iwa’s already lectured me about the whole ‘you have terrible taste’ and ‘you should stop going after guys who you know are only going to break your heart’ thing,” he shoots back, his use of air quotes telling you that no, he didn’t – and probably still doesn’t – follow Iwaizumi’s advice. You roll your eyes, comeback already on the tip of your tongue, when —

“Hold on,” the boy next to you suddenly sits up straight, eyes wide open and staring at you. “How come you know him?”

“Well who doesn’t know him?”

Although you deliver it in a way that comes off as mildly sarcastic, all of his prominent social, athletic, and political embellishments have served to establish Ushijima Wakatoshi as a household name; both in Tokyo and throughout the rest of Japan.

But while that’s true, you for one can’t say that you know the man in the way that Oikawa is implying. Despite belonging in the same political circle, what with both your fathers’ professions, you have yet to properly interact outside of the social niceties required for the few parties and fundraisers you’ve seen him at.

From what you are able to discern the first few times you have been able to talk to him though, you are one hundred percent certain that you disliked the man to an almost frightening degree. His stoicism, apparent indifference and boundless pride rub off of you the wrong way, and you’ve been actively ignoring him at every meeting afterwards.

Your friend lets out another snort – you’ve half a mind to change his contact name to horse at this point – while you raise an eyebrow at his accusatory finger-wagging, almost daring him to say what’s so clearly on his mind.

Because despite wearing a short white number to stave off the summer heat that dominated the venue just hours prior, you have absolutely zero qualms about giving Tooru a thorough beat-down if necessary.

“There you guys are.”

Someone plops down into the vacant seat to your left, and when you turn to see a familiar, non-douchey face, you break into a smile.

“Hey, Haji,” you greet Iwaizumi as you lean against his side.

The faint blush that spreads across Oikawa’s face doesn’t escape you when you sneak a glance at him. Despite having his mind preoccupied by Ushijima, it looks like the brunette still hasn’t let go of his little crush on the final member of your trio. “Iwa-chaan, we waited forever. What took you so long?”

“Got lost, your house is fucking huge Y/N,” Iwaizumi explains, setting down his glass of his newest alcoholic concoction as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Good thing I ran into your brother, few more minutes and I would’ve lost my mind in there.”

You snicker at him, a low mumble of “and you claim Tooru’s the stupid one” escaping you because honestly, your house isn’t that big. He might just not admit it but it’s common knowledge that Hajime’s a bit... directionally challenged, to say the least.

Ignoring the glare he sends your way, you nonchalantly pick up his drink and take a sip. “Ah, very nice. You really should consider bartending, Haji, you’ve got the talent for it,” you remark, handing Oikawa the glass for him to taste. 

Iwaizumi’s skill in mixing spirits was one the three of you discovered during one of your first parties, when you and Tooru had complained about how shitty the drinks were. Hajime, in a true gentlemanly fashion, had grabbed a couple of bottles off the counter and kept the two of you well-provided for for the remainder of the event. (and for every other event that came after it.)

The spiky-haired lawyer only rolls his eyes at your words, plucking the crystalware out of Oikawa’s hands before he could finish it off amidst the latter’s ungodliest of whines. “What were you doing anyway? Looked like you were discussing some deep stuff when I came in.”

You separate from him, putting your hands on your hips and adopting a haughty tone, “We are slandering Ushijima Wakatoshi, and his ways of ill-repute. You, by declaration of the Mistress, which is me, and by Friendship Code 70040, is hereby required to join as well.”

“I’ll pass, Wakatoshi’s cool,” Hajime comments around a sip of alcohol, and the casual use of Ushijima’s first name is enough to give you pause.

“Okay, first of all how are you on a first name basis with him and second, you’re a guy.” you exclaim, throwing your hands up for emphasis. “Of course you’d think that!”

“First question: I worked with him for a bit two years ago, not gonna say anything more because company rules, but we talked and he’s really nice,” Iwaizumi holds up two fingers. “Second, sure I am, but even your brother thinks so, too.”

“The world doesn’t just consist of Eita.”

“Alright, you both better shut it because the topic of your very heated conversation is heading right here,” Oikawa interrupts, poking you in the side and sending a look at Iwaizumi.

You groan in response and shake your head. Even during your time abroad, you’ve been unable to escape his presence; from the posters promoting his team for the 2014 World League to the numerous brand advertisements three years later, Wakatoshi was everywhere.

But - and you’ll never admit to this out loud, not ever - even though all you’ve seen of him was in print, on the television, and in the occasional social media update, you could never deny the fact that the man was handsome.

Tooru is attractive, as evidenced by the sheer number of his admirers in high school, Hajime has received his own fair share of confessions and Valentine’s Day chocolates, and you have to admit that your brother is objectively good-looking as well.

And while it’s a confession you have to make under duress, Wakatoshi is a completely different case altogether. You’d thought you were stunned when Miya Atsumu came to your offices to help promote the newly rolled-out banking app, but even he can’t really compare.

Nothing can really do with perfectly gelled olive hair, pristine three-piece suit slightly strained against a muscular build, and the undeniable aura that exuded power and demanded respect.

One would have to be practically blind not to feel attracted to Ushijima (but even then, you think that the timbre of his voice can still make anyone weak in the knees), but because you have no shame and are definitely not above pettiness, you maintain a disgusted-looking sneer as you watch him make his way to your table.

“Hey Toshi,” Oikawa says, the red from before making a reappearance as he takes in the newcomer with eager eyes.

“Good evening, Oikawa,” Ushijima replies, but it’s clear that his attention is focused elsewhere; namely, on you.

Your skin crawls at the weight of the stare he’s pinning on you, but you veto the urge to flip him off right then and there because that would be against proper decorum. Your patience is running thin though, and he needs something else to stare at immediately or so help him God you will do it.

“Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi intervenes, bless him, and offers a hand towards the taller. “It’s been a long time.”

“Hajime,” Ushijima grasps the appendage and gives it a firm shake, but his gaze still hasn’t left you. ”It’s good to see you.” 

“Yo Ushiwaka! Get back over here!” One of the miscreants across the veranda calls out, standing beside what seems to be a set-up for a round of beer pong. You can’t help but make a face when you catch sight of it because what did they think this was, some messy Saturday night college party? These guys really had no taste.

Ushijima finally turns around to head back to his friends, but not without shooting you one last cursory glance over his shoulder; a glance that you dutifully avoid despite every single cell in your body pushing you to return it and have him catch sight of the hellfire burning in your gaze for doing whatever it is that he did to Tooru.

Because damn it, no one hurts your friends or family and gets away with it. Not even over your dead body, because God knows you will rise from the dead just to get retribution on their behalf.

The minute Wakatoshi’s out of earshot, you scoff into your glass of whiskey, hastily downing it in one go because you’d need more of it in your system if you wanted to survive tonight with him around.

In the entirety of your 26 years, never have you once thought yourself as unlucky. Horribly ill-timed, sure, but unlucky? Nope.

Or at least, not until tonight.

“If it isn’t Miss Semi,” a smooth baritone sounds from behind you, nearly causing you to drop the container you’re holding in surprise. “Good evening.”

You seethe, ready to give the person a piece of your mind for almost being the (however indirect) culprit to the destruction of a 20-year old piece of china, and you have the gall to be so confrontational because you actually know who it is. Only one person in this entire house can be in possession of a voice that deep.

True enough, when you turn, it is Ushijima Wakatoshi who stands at the entrance to your kitchen in all of his six-foot-three glory, eyebrow cocked in a perfect arch as he regards you. He’s holding an empty wineglass in his left hand, and it looks like he’s come in here to have it refilled.

You aren’t sure what exactly about the situation brings all the blood rushing to your face; be it the anger you feel at seeing him so callously walk into your kitchen like he owns it instead of going to the refreshments table outside, or the feeling of something else at the sight of him in only his deep purple dress shirt; sleeves rolled up and top two buttons undone.

That, along with the fact that his hair is now slightly tousled, leaves you thinking that he looks positively sinful, if not for the smirk that’s painted on his stupid face. That one tiny detail pushes you to choose the first, and safer, option.

You roll your eyes.

“Yes, hello Ushijima,” you respond drily, slamming the cabinet shut to punctuate your tone. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

He simply raises the glass in his hand in response, and you are unable to get a biting comment in about how he should instead look for a refill outside instead of in here like some privileged dick when he speaks.

“Congratulations on the announcement,” he begins, stepping beyond the threshold and into the kitchen, thick carpet muffling the sounds of his polished Italian leather shoes as he makes his way towards you.

When he gets dangerously close to the boundary of the minimum three-feet you need to have between you and him at all times, you briefly consider getting violent and chucking the bowl at him just to be done with it, but he seems to have other plans when he stops by the marble island, a full one inch away from your protective perimeter.

Looks like your grandmother’s favorite crucible will live to see another day.

You see him eye you expectantly from his position, and realize that you’ve yet to respond to his statement. “Thank you. I understand that the same is in order for you as well, what with your succession of Madame Junko’s position.”

He nods, less confirmatory and more ‘I’ve found your answer satisfactory,’ and you cannot suppress the white-hot lance of annoyance that shoots through you at the memory that comes barrelling along with the simple gesture.

Suddenly, you’re both no longer OS Post Holdings or The Ushijima Telegraph and Telephone Corporation’s newly appointed presidents and CEOs, but mere fifteen year olds attending middle school at the same time.

Ushijima has always been the star student, and while your father has pushed you to make friends with the quiet boy, you’ve never found it in yourself to brush aside the vast difference present in the way he looks at Wakatoshi, with eyes and gestures full of a soft sense of pride, and then at you, all strict words and interactions that feel more business related than anything else.

You’re not stupid, never was and never will; you know that your father wanted a son to follow in his footsteps. And although he had twins - a girl and a boy - he saw Eita as more of a disappointment because of his unwillingness to live the life the patriarch of the family wanted him to.

So while your brother pursued his dreams in the music industry, you were left to shoulder the responsibility that came with the Semi family name. You studied rigorously, honed your talents, and polished your social skills until you shined, determined to be the brightest gem in the industry and the daughter your father would be proud of.

But even though you were not stupid, you were definitely naive. Naive to have thought that he would be satisfied with what he had, naive to have thought that he wouldn’t look somewhere else to fulfill his own personal dreams.

And that’s how you first met Ushijima, the son of Governor Utsui and your father’s new protegee, as he so proudly told you over dinner with him one Thursday night.

The only thing that kept you from breaking down then were the years spent at etiquette lessons, so you settled instead on gripping your silverware until your knuckles turned white. You could feel Eita’s eyes on you from across the table, and you didn’t have to look to know that they were apologizing for something that he didn’t even do.

The other two males in the room seemed oblivious to your imminent spiral, happily talking with each other and discussing whatever it is that they deemed important, and the fire in your heart that burned for the olive-haired boy grew into a full-fledged inferno.

That day marked the beginning of your lifelong grudge against Wakatoshi, and you still haven’t given it up to this day.

“Attention! I would just like to thank everyone for coming tonight -”

Your dad’s booming voice is what breaks you out of your reverie, and you realize that you have been staring - glowering, really - at the object of your ire for far too long than what can be deemed normal.

An open bottle of Romanée-Conti rests on the countertop by his elbow, and his previously empty wineglass is now half-full, the deep red liquid catching the fluorescent lights as he idly swirls it around.

Much like his wine, there is also something swirling in his sharp eyes, but you neither need to or wish to know what it is. You let out a disgruntled huff before heading out to the living room, shooting him one final glare as you round the corner and disappear.

Wakatoshi sighs to the empty room before he too, decides to head on out and meet with Representative Semi - your and Eita’s father - to offer him his congratulations.

He finishes the drink in his hand, wine tasting oddly bittersweet as it goes down his throat, and as he exits the kitchen, he wonders for the nth time that night how come you seemed to hate him with such a passion.

He’s not stupid, not like the way everyone seems to think he is just because he’s blunt, but if it’s taken him this long to realize that your feelings towards him go much deeper than a simple dislike, then he thinks that he may never find out the real reason as to why.

The thought doesn’t deter him though, and when he catches sight of the back of your head while you talk animatedly to Oikawa Tooru, laughing your heart out as though you weren’t staring daggers at him just minutes ago, he thinks that he will gladly spend a lifetime figuring you out.

You are a mystery to him, and one that he will stop at nothing to crack.

[ note ]  ― and there we have it! first time we’re meeting the cast, and if the overly zealous descriptions about ushi isn’t enough to display how whipped i am for him then probably nothing ever will. hope you all like this one as much as i loved writing it <3

also this is dedicated to @cafemiya​ for giving me the push i needed to make this entire series. hi issy i love you bae 🥺💖

[thewolfmanslayer]

Honestly the amount of people who say artists and writers should do stuff for free, or try to rip them off on comissions still royally piss me off.

I think the worst part of it is the entitlement, I dont want to make this too much about generations but a lot of commissioners are millenial/Gen z's who grew up on the "steal and pirate everything" mentality, take everything that you can because no one else is going to hand it to you. which I can get behind, when you are screwing over MULTI BILLION DOLLAR COMPANIES. NOT THE STRUGGLING ARTISTS AND WRITERS who are trying to keep food on the table as desperately as you probably are!

It's simple, you wouldn't walk into a restaurant, order food and tell the server "sorry I don't have any money, but I've got like a few thousand followers on social media, I can get your name out there, get the restaurant some exposure" NO! They don't need "exposure" they need you to pay the damn bill!

On top of that, most of these artists and writers ALREADY HAVE FOLLOWINGS. They already have thousands of people following them, waiting for the chance to get a commission, who are willing to pay for said commission, they don't need "exposure" when they're already out there! He'll even the artists and writers with a few hundred don't need it, they'll get more followers as time goes by, their skill alone will see to it.

And what is with people trying to get free art and writing? It's not going to work! You can't harass someone until they cave, trust me, you'll be long since blocked before you even have the opportunity. I don't do comissions, online anyways, but my own friends and family, people who actually know me STILL PAY ME whenever they ask for me to do art for them because they KNOW it takes TIME AND EFFORT.

How many times do we need to have this discussion???? Like when is it going to finally click that people who need to pay their bills just as much as you do AREN'T going to do this shit for free!?

Here's the thing about art and writing, that you've heard a billion times but still aren't getting; IT. TAKES. TIME. AND. EFFORT. TO. GET. DONE. the art isn't going to magically appear and the writing isn't going to suddenly write itself, if either were so convenient YOU WOULDNT BE ASKING AN ARTIST OR WRITER IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Look at that, you see that? The first picture I did back in 2012-13, the picture beside it? I did that TWO YEARS AGO. I didn't suddenly know exactly what to do, or had anything close to a god given talent for drawing (I'm not that talented). The first picture WAS THE ABSOLUTE BEST I COULD DO AT THE TIME THAT I MADE IT. In the time between these two drawings I admittedly took a break from art, but then I got back into it four years ago. EVEN STILL that was four YEARS of starting over from the basics, relearning everything, learning new things, wanting to actually improve my art.

Which, guess what, DID NOT HAPPEN OVER NIGHT. It was HOURS UPON HOURS of my limited free time as an adult drawing over and over and over and over again, every single goddamn day to get to the point that I was able to make that redraw look as good as it does in comparison. He'll, my art now puts them both to shame! Because I spent the time improving my quality!!

Now look at these artists doing comissions, they've probably put EVEN MORE of their time to get that good! They've put in LITERAL YEARS of sweat, blood, tears, frustrations and dedicated hardwork. Some did the same as me, self teaching and lots of practice, others probably had to go to school, which definitely wasn't cheap. But all of us put in that time and effort TO REACH THESE POINTS. Of being better artists, developing our styles, getting faster at drawing.

And maybe you think that this is super easy, right? That I or every other artist can just fire some art off and boom its good and done in like an hour?

FUCK. NO.

Even now it takes me several hours a day OVER MANY DAYS to make something exceptionally good! It doesn't matter how good an artist is, it still. Takes. Time.

Maybe the issue is that you don't understand how much actually goes into art, let me break it down for you, the steps that most people follow to finish ONE drawing.

-Rough draft: general character outline, get a feel for what I want to draw.

-Rough sketch: I start doing a bit of pencil to start filling in details like mouth, nose, eyes, hair, clothes. Ect.

-Penciling: I go over the rough sketch and clean everything up, maybe do some editing, this is when you can start making out all the details.

-Ink: I trace over the finished pencil with a pen tool and actually have the line art, everything looks clean, presentable, it actually looks like a character now. I'll spend time editing this and possibly redoing the inking many times over to get to a point where I like it.

-Flat color: I decide on which colors to use for skin tone, clothes accessories. Ect.

-Shading/highlights: I figure out where my light source is and how strong it is, I then apply the correct amount of lighting and shadows to the color to give it depth, I also have determine the texture of skin, clothes and accessories to make everything look real and natural.

-Blending: I smooth out the shading and highlights so that it looks more natural and isn't too hard (noticeable difference between color) so that it looks as natural as possible.

-Finish: I go over last minute details, finish any editing or corrections that need to be done. Once it's good I call it a day.

Each process is longer in length then the previous, with the exception of the final editing (as long as everything looks good) and even the rough draft can take some time. Over all this is SEVERAL HOURS of work for a SINGLE DRAWING.

So is it sinking in yet? How much is put into doing even a single character drawing? God forbid if its done with background. This isn't a "scratch a pen around and be done with it in ten minutes" kinda deal, no, this is SEVERAL HOURS OF SOMEONES LIFE BEING PUT INTO THIS

And if you still have the AUDACITY to try and wrangle free art from an artist then there's no helping you, you're just a selfish piece of shit, no question and I want nothing to do with you.

Someone might say "But I got free art/writing from.-" look I don't give a shit if someone did something for you THAT ONE TIME, these other artists and writers? Totally seperate and different people. You're one freebie experience does not, and should not apply to other artists and writers.

"But what if I really want this commission but don't have the money right now?" Well, that's tough shit. Save up and properly commission them when you can, it's not their problem.

"But what if I'm in a really bad financial situation and really want it?" That sucks, and I'm sorry, but again, not their problem. Chances are this is their only source of income and they need to make money so that they don't end up in a similar situation.

"They have a gift! They should share it!" What kind of cheap ass- LOOK, just because someone is talented or really good at something does not automatically obligate them to do anything for total strangers in anyway shape or form. These are living, breathing people, the same as you. They need to eat, they need to pay rent/mortgages, they need to pay vet bills, send their kids to college, do their taxes and everything else that YOU YOURSELF need to do. Asking anyone to spend their time doing something for free, when that something is how THEY ARE SURVIVING is beyond asinine. Not only that, this obviously isn't a hobby to them, it is very clearly THEIR JOB. Would you want to do a job where you didn't get paid at all? Doing a shit ton of work for absolutely nothing? No? Didn't think so.

"It shouldn't be about the money!" Well unfortunately, as with almost every other job, it is. We live in a world where we desperately need to make money in order to survive. That's the painful fact of the matter. If money never had to be an issue ever again then this would be a very different story. But it's not, plain and simple as can be.

Look, these people are just like you, artists and writers who are just trying to get by in a shitty ass world, using the one thing they have that let's them have an income. Leave them be, don't try and trick them, guilt them, or cuss them out when you don't get your way. Either properly comission or leave them the hell alone, plain and simple.

[astudyinfreewill]

“look what you made me do” 2/? | masterpost

aka: me making taylor swift songs about dean winchester and/or deancas bc it’s what dean himself would want

second song on deck, as promised; this one actually has quite a few cas beats in it, especially at the start, despite it having a dean vibe overall, so it should be interesting. again, bonus fanvid link at the end <3

this is me trying

i've been having a hard time adjusting i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

ok, we start off strong with a couplet that could suit either dean or cas. “the shiniest wheels” is actually a perfectly fitting metaphor for a show that treats cars like emotional avatars of the people who drive them (i could so easily go into a digression about how the same thing happens in trc but this is the wrong post for that... how do i keep finding myself emotionally invested in car-fetishizing media while barely being a can-drive gay myself). ANYWAY, the first thing that comes to mind is the impala and how it’s pretty much synonymous with dean’s sense of self, how it gets wrecked and rebuilt over the course of the show, often tied in to his emotional state. and dean, well. he’s built up a lot of trauma over the years, but he’s also just getting older, as humans do.

on the other hand, we could also see it as a cas line - he’s not as much of a carfucker car aficionado as dean but he’s an adoptive winchester so hey, it still kinda works (rip to the pimpmobile, gone but not forgotten). what i MEAN is -- cas has been slowly falling from grace ever since season 4. he was becoming more human in season 5 already, with a grim prediction of his human future in 5x04; then lived as human for a while in season 7; then became completely human in season 9 before regaining his grace. but in season 15, again, his grace was apparently failing (boy it would be SUCH a shame if that plot point just, like... got dropped... 😐). substitute “wings” for “wheels” and you get a picture of someone who used to be this unstoppable, super-powered angel soldier that demons cowered in fear of, but has slowly become more human over time. as for “a hard time adjusting”... well, cas’ journey towards humanity has not been the easiest transition: it’s come with self-doubt, mental and physical pain, and of course, as he learned about love: heartbreak.

TL;DR: LIFE COMES AT YOU FAST AND THESE GUYS ARE TIRED.

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back; i have a lot of regrets about that

‘kay, this next part is definitely cas. cas who, as i mentioned in the previous post, just keeps leaving, whether that’s because he’s sacrificing himself or taking off on his own. and because that typically goes over like a lead balloon with dean, either because it leaves him grieving and traumatised or it plays right into his abandonment issues (or both - hello purgatory arc!), cas would be tentative about coming back. it’s also very apparent that castiel feels like the winchesters only value him for his abilities and powers (and after all, he’s been created to be a soldier), so if he feels like he’s not being helpful enough, he also tends not to feel wanted (again: dean wants him to stay, but cas wants to be asked to stay). plus, we know every time they’ve had a falling out it takes dean a bit to get over his anger (“dean, i thought i was doing the right thing”; “yeah, you always do”) so i don’t think cas takes his forgiveness for granted, especially if he has lied to him in the process (yes i’m thinking about the mixtape episode). “a lot of regrets”, indeed.

pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down; and maybe i don't quite know what to say, but i'm here in your doorway.

here, again, the car can easily work as a metaphor for someone’s emotional state. pulling over to take a breather, to try to assess things from a distance; and with lookout points so often being perched on steep hills, it’s easy to imagine the sense of vertigo, your own fear and self-doubt almost pushing you towards dangerous, self-destructive ideas. and we know cas doesn’t do things by halves - when he’s committed to something he believes is right, he goes all out. and yes, that has led to more than one falling out. 

but despite that - despite his worst fears telling him he should not come back to dean unless he’s “coming back with a win”, or able to protect him from harm (yes i’m thinking about the mixtape episode AGAIN), he does always come back to him. it’s the one thing that dean can always depend on, castiel finding his way back to him like dean is his true north. i’m here in your doorway; the please take me back once more is implied.

i just wanted you to know that this is me trying i just wanted you to know that this is me trying

(and dean does take him back, because however many times castiel feels that he has failed in his mission, he always comes back and tries again, tries harder, tries to make it right or do it better. and that’s something dean relates to - fucking up in the worst ways and getting beaten down but always getting back up, always starting over, always trying again. in fact, he’s kind of the one who taught cas that. and with that-- we move over to the dean portion of this.)

they told me all of my cages were mental so I got wasted like all my potential

ah, it wouldn’t be a dean pov without some good old fashioned self deprecation. “all of my cages were mental” isn’t 100% accurate in dean’s case because he has been dealt a pretty shit hand by life, but he also excels at self-sabotage. “I got wasted” is of course an allusion to his alcoholism, but then we have the clever play on words with “wasted potential”, which... hits close to home. all dean’s ever done is tried to live up to what he thought he should be, always feeling like he was falling short. never quite the favourite son, never the man his father thought he should be, not strong enough to resist hell, not the righteous sword of michael the angels expected, not good enough for the people he loves not to leave him, just not enough.

and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad i have a lot of regrets about that

...as i said above: though dean does always forgive the people he loves, it still takes him quite a bit to get over his anger at them. and when he’s angry, he lashes out, often saying things that come off cruel, things he absolutely does not mean. and this part reminds me, yet again, of dean’s painful confession in 15x09, about how he gets so angry and doesn’t know why (of course, the answer is trauma and childhood abuse; but he has no way to process that); and he tries to stop it but he can’t, and he always, always regrets it in the end.

i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here

oh, dean. dean winchester with his ged and his give ‘em hell attitude. he breaks my heart. i touched on this in my previous post, but there’s something to be said for the fact that dean had to grow up so fast, he really didn’t grow at all in some ways ( “so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere”). from a young age he was shoved in a parental role, having to be both a father and mother to sam, which meant never getting to exist just for himself. which of course, in turn, means he never got to develop a healthy degree of emotional maturity. in “bad boys”, we find out that the only time dean even got close to being a normal teenager, receiving positive reinforcement by sonny and bonding with his peers, john ripped him right out of that safe haven; and by the time “after school special” is set in, he’s given up on ever getting a shot at a healthy environment, using denial as a coping mechanism by trying to pass off his and sam’s shitty, depressing lives as super edgy and cool.

pourin' out my heart to a stranger but i didn't pour the whiskey i just wanted you to know that this is me trying i just wanted you to know that this is me trying at least i'm trying

i don’t really need to explain this bit i guess, but it’s about the implications of how it can somehow be easier to open up to a complete stranger rather than someone you care about; and how for dean, who is used to frequenting seedy bars and dives, one-night stands are as much about comfort than they are about pleasure. that’s the only way he knows how to let himself be touched, seen, held -- because of course, “no chick flick moments”, and besides, we know that when he falls in love he falls hard, so it’s safer to just roll in and out of town. 

the interesting part in this context though, is that “but i didn’t pour the whiskey”, especially since we know dean, like every other winchester, tends to drown out his problems with alcohol; so him choosing to not do that, and instead just look for comfort from a stranger (whether it’s through sex or just chatting away at a bar) is, in itself, a sign of trying to do better. because if there’s one thing dean knows how to do, is trying, and trying, and trying again. in fact, as i mentioned above, it’s kinda where cas learned it too. and we know dean is a stand-in for human nature, so of course, this is also a larger discourse of how humans are flawed and imperfect but can always improve, always do better, always try harder or be more. and maybe that’s what makes a righteous man, really.

and it's hard to be at a party when i feel like an open wound it's hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you you're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

this next part... listen. i don’t know how it fits into the narrative of trying, but what i do know is i can’t stop thinking about grieving dean. about how every time he loses cas, a little piece of him dies too, but it’s a piece that gets bigger and bigger every time, carving a hollow inside him. it’s unsightly, it’s unforgiving, it’s raw - it’s like an open wound. and as much as dean has always taken on the role of the person who puts on a brave face, makes a joke, and pushes all his feelings down, well -- it’s hard to that; it’s hard to focus on anything else when he’s missing cas like a phantom limb. “all i want is you” which is to say i’d rather have you, cursed or not; which is to say, i need you. need you badly enough to see your face everywhere after escaping purgatory, just like “a flashback in a film reel”. 

and i just wanted you to know that this is me trying  (maybe i don't quite know what to say) i just wanted you to know that this is me trying; at least i'm trying.

so, yes. dean is trying. he’s always trying, even though healing and progress are not linear or easy. and he knows he’s got anger issues, he knows he’s bad with his words, but damn it, he always shows up for the people he loves, and he tries to do better, every. damn. time. partly because he’s us, he’s all of us, he’s human perfectibility incarnate; and partly because he loves cas so damn much and maybe if he gets it right this time he’ll get to keep him -- and i don’t know which of the two options makes my heart hurt the most.

---

fanvid rec link here! it’s only for the second half of the song, so the more dean-centric one :)

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 11: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/48552656

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ - Ao3 version is formatted, tumblr version is not. Ao3 is recommended.

Previous Chapter   Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions a lot of Weed. Unwanted touching (just mentions but slightly uncomfortable) 

10 pm was a good time to arrive at a party, they decided. Vanilla milkshakes always made Matthew feel better- however maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have one after that coffee from earlier, and especially considering he was about to jacked up. Oh well. That’s something I'll deal with tomorrow. The Dutchman and himself had been on their way to Matthias & Lukas’ house, music-making his head pound already and feeling antsy over the prospect of more socialising. They had made very little conversation as the Mattie drove- only vaguely keeping attention to Tim’s random commentary and occasional directions. The Nordic couple had been renting out some house in the suburbs with 3 other students- very obviously avoiding living anywhere near the student dorms or the student housing as they liked to prevent interaction with the rest of Himaruya Academy; when you were hosting smoke outs and various amounts of overzealous drinkers and gambling, you tend to want to avoid the loud crowds. These events were closed doors, invite-only per se. Nothing like Alfred’s big bash parties that turned the university dorms into the likes of open summer festivals. They had only just touched the gravel of the house pavement when Matthew was hit with the familiar whistle of a certain Cuban man who had recognised their red car.

“EYYY LUKAS, TIM AND MATTIE ARE HERE.” the Cuban accent used to make Matthew shiver but was meaningless once he learnt Carlos was very straight, and if evidence needed planting then Carlos already on the porch with some girls he didn’t recognise and was flagged to go in after a friendly wave as he was too busy flirting to give Matt and actual hello. Tim had followed behind, loosening his tie as they sauntered up the door, only to have it ripped open by an unimpressed looking face of the shorter man known by Lukas.

The Norwegian seemed to raise his eyebrows to see that they both arrived together, usually, it would always be Tim first before Matthew came coming in. “Hej. Earlier than usual. Matthias is already down in the den with Jack.”

Tim had disappeared into the kitchen, making haste to avoid the heavy drinkers that surrounded the living room and especially avoid that Russian dude that seems to be pouring what looked like half a bottle of vodka into his cup. Meanwhile, Lukas had offered to stash away Matthew’s precious hoodie in the closet as he made their way down to the basement. The hypnotising dragging voice of Tame Impala's Kevin Parker grew louder as Matthew's sneakers hit the staircase floorboards down into the dreary but comfortable den. Jack must have picked the music, but I can dig it. Already he could smell the stink of imported kush, the haziness of what seemed like a spiked stream flowing around- only placated and diluted due to the small basement hopper window that let the smoke out. Matthew kicked off his sneakers at the bottom, already enjoying the vibe- or perhaps already being affected by secondhand smoke. Matthias had opened the basement bathroom to double steam the first few sessions of weed but it proved worthless as there seems to be a continuous stream of smokers mingling in and out of the den. Matthias was a tall blonde mess, a big optimist who wore long shirts under brightly coloured tees- a stark contrast to the bland wardrobe that Lukas wore (Opposites do attract I suppose) and the Danish guy was laying belly up on some very tacky shag carpet, at the feet of Jack who was lazed around on some beanbag, bong in his lap haphazardly.

“Oi Mate- bout time you showed up, I was getting bored. Where’s Timtam?” Matthew shrugged and sat cross-legged right near the dazed Dane’s face.

“Don’t call him that, he’ll throw a fit. What’s this? Yours or Tim’s?”

Jack snickered, the Australian clearly buzzed on something, “Buddy if this was Tim’s hooch I wouldn’t be sharing with goldie over here” he pointed and laughed as he listened to Matthias whine in offence. To be fair, the guy did go through more weed than Jack and Matthew combined so it was a fair enough statement. Matthew leant back, arms behind him as he dug his hands into the soft and a bit scruffy faux fur of the carpet- Matthias was giggling high about something and had pushed his head into Matthew’s lap.

“Hold kæft! I’m not that shit! Fuck Mattttt where’s Tim?”

“Upstairs I think- please pass the bong Jack” Matthew carefully stroked the hair that weaselled its way into his lap, he didn’t mind touchy stoners, he was the same whenever he got a hit- he just wished the big couch wasn’t full of clothes so he wouldn't have to sit on the floor. Just as he had the glass bulb in his hand Tim had marched in from upstairs, throwing a bag of chips and lots of biscuits into the beanbag next to Jack. Matthew tutted as Matthias apologised about not having those maple cookies he liked, whereas the Australian was more pleased to see some recognisable red liquorice. The green-eyed man had pulled out a pipe and dragged the spare beanbag to be behind Matthew, and it was not long before all four of the boys had taken a few hits and became a bunch of giggling messes.

“So whattya been up to mate?”

“Maybe he finally went back to Canada or something right Mattttt?

“Ahaha yea seen any geese or something mate?? Shit, we should have gone- BC bud hol-y” the conversation seemed disjointed and Matthew was already too far gone to think about going back to Canada. He notes that yeah, it’s been a bit since he’d come for a smoke out, and he didn't answer as he was too preoccupied with the stem of his bong and the noise of shouting celebrations of poker players upstairs.

“Schatje has a new uh...gig” Tim snorted, he, however, was definitely less jacked than the 3 who seemed to light up at the sentence.

“Oooooooo who be it?? Who is it, Mattie?” Matthew let out a wail of disapproval at the conversation, Tim was supposed to be his friend yet he’s pushed him into a corner of answers.

“Some dude..guy...fucking cute- uh Gil..red eyes oof real red...shiny eyes.” his mind wandered as he let himself lean on the edge of Tim’s beanbag, Matthias had already stumbled off the floor, excited and eager to hear like some high school girl. Jack had his eyebrows raised and the singlet wearing man moved closer from his position to meet Matthew’s rosy expression.

“Wow, Matties got the giggles for someone huh? Hah Timtam good luck mate.” Tim avoided any eye contact and instead focused on his pipe and refilled it with some mary jane from the communal bag nearby. An indignant noise came out of Tim as he growled at the stupid nickname.

“Wait- Gil? Gilbert? The band shirt guy? Isn’t he the one who got wasted at Francis’ big blowout last time” Matthias mentioned, arms waving and dismissed as he continued to squirm along the floor.

“Oh Gilllly boy, mates with uh Antonio or something, that bitch?”

“Fuck I don’t know...he listens to uh...mom jeans too ya know- fuck me.” the two laughed at Matthew’s comment but didn’t push for more- it’s been too long since Matthew had shown interest in someone, who were they to question. Especially not while they were all getting smoked. Tim looked disinterested in the topic anyway and was more concerned with tangling his fingers in Matthew’s strawberry blonde hair as the Canadian had sat between his legs. God fuck cuddles were nice. Matthew's voice broke out into more wailing as he sung along to Snowy Dunes. The music was soothing. He hoped there was more.

The music melted out into something he didn't quite recognise: “Who the FUCK put Queens of stone age on the queue?” Jack complained. ah fuck. he agreed over the change in the artist. shame, he quite liked Snowy Dunes more than Queens of Stone age At some point, Lukas had dragged his very giggly boyfriend upstairs and Jack had been huddled in a corner snacking by himself. Matthew didn’t know what time it was but he’d wiggled his way from his scarf-wearing friend and clambered up the staircase, laughing at the terrible decor on the walls- he could paint better graffiti than the shitty art pieces the house owners had displayed. He didn’t realise how he’d find himself on the couch near Ivan and some other foreign sounding students. Ivan was cool. Weird. Haha, I V A N. fuck ‘ee van.’ who names their kid Ivan anyway? Doesn't get more Russian than that. Shit ice hockey. Russian players are always so grabby. Man, I’d kill for some Cheetos right now.  

There were about 10 people in the room- and some Matthew only recognised by name. Everyone here barely attempted to talk outside of this safe house. What happened on Saturday nights never got passed the lawn, it was an unspoken law. Matthew always wondered was that because of the copious amount of shagging that happened? The excessive card games or maybe the fact that all these people were just kids who can’t bear to go to the bigger parties. Matthew couldn’t decide. He couldn’t even figure out why he was here. Why was anyone here? Why are we still here? Just to suffer? He laughed at his inner joke.

The teen’s mind wandered in circles and had been offered a drink by some Finnish kid he recognised as Lukas’ housemate. The music up here was incessantly blasting rock- something that he’d love if it wasn’t so dizzy. He melted further into the couch, barely turning to watch the poker match of some guys a few meters away. Matthew liked this house. Even with people here, it wasn’t suffocating. He could feel someone touching his hair again. Hosers. Why always my hair. The fingers started roaming his shoulders...and his thigh. Suddenly Matthew felt more sobered as he shuffled away and tried to find a pillow to hide behind. He felt woozy and extremely giddy despite his anxiousness to escape anymore touching. He stood up throwing the pillow outside and went hunting for some water. He didn’t want to feel this light anymore. Not now. Matthew couldn’t remember feeling this light and heavy all at the same time. And suddenly, he just couldn’t remember a lot of things. There was a lot of loud singing. He laughed.

---

Alfred had been dropped off at his dorm building at around 9:20 pm, and by 9:30 he’d launched his discord chat and set up his microphone so that he could huddle on his bed without having to jostle his laptop so much later. The blue-eyed American had only one reason to not be out partying like he usually did with his cousin Francis, only one other reason why he was studying with his brother and one other reason why he hadn’t been chasing up local girls and guys

“Hey, Keeks!”

His voice rattled with poorly disguised joy as his Japanese friend had picked up. Alfred and Kiku had hit it off foundation year, and while it was upsetting that eventually, the black-haired beauty had to transfer back to the other campus, Alfred had made it his job to stay in contact. Kiku was a genius. On par if not smarter than Alfred and that was considered high praise. The two shared stories, For the Asian man it was only just the start of the day so Alfred accompanied him through his breakfast as they shared concepts for different additions to each other’s current project. Robotics has always intrigued Alfred but there was no secret that his wonder had not been merely just been present because of the technological prowess that his crush displayed.

“Alfred-kun. I thought you said you had something with your Brother tonight.” Kiku’s soft voice filtered through the screen, he knew all about Alfred’s personal life and was under the impression the call was cancelled for some family bonding.

“Nah, dude. He’s out with his not-boyfriend. I don’t know what he’s up to. Probably exchanging spit or reading together again.” Alfred Sighed. Knowing his boring brother, he was just watching some movie with Tim again. He’s probably just sleeping.

[haootia]

if i had to name one piece of media that really defines my character itd probably have to be its such a beautiful day, which is kind of strange because i only watched it like, a year ago? as opposed to the stuff i watched when i was a kid and in my early teens thats probably more "fundamental" to my personality... but i dunno how much i believe in that stuff, or when the age cutoff is for that "critical period" of development if there even is one. like i guess i could say that the baby bach music box rendition of jesu joy of mans desiring is the most "fundamental" piece of media to my development considering that i listened to it literally thousands of times between the ages of like, 3 and 10, so if anything is really firmly ingrained in the structure of my neurons and shit its probably that. but anyway what i was saying about its such a beautiful day is that i feel like even though i didnt actually watch it until recently i saw a lot of stuff that was inspired by ISABD so i was kind of secondhand exposed to its influence. i think ISABD is a very influential work and the general mindset and atmosphere of it was reincarnated in a lot of other stuff throughout the 2010s, although i cant name anything specific off the top of my head, thats just a hunch i have. i remember i watched the first part of world of tomorrow when it came out, which was when i was 12, and a little less than 2 years after my dad died, and i was in a really weird state of mind around that time that was actually probably foreshadowing my freshman year paranoid breakdown 2 years later. i totally forgot about it but when i saw jacob geller's video about don hertzfeldt -- and i just checked, that video was uploaded 10 months ago so i must have first watched ISABD around then, which is even earlier than i thought -- i was struck with a really strong deja vu, which is a persistent theme in my life, and i had the sense that world of tomorrow was sort of lurking in the background all 6 preceding years and subtly influencing me throughout that time.

why is this line break so fucking massive? i hope it doesnt show up like that when i post. god. anyway i think that post is phrased really interestingly because there are some things i know are/were critical to my personality that i dont want anyone to experience, and i dont just mean that in a like "no one should be reading homestuck in 2022" way i mean there are things i could point to as being very influential to really shitty parts of my life when i was a young teen, like 13 - 16, and if you wanted to totally "understand me" and be able to like, write my biography, you would have to know about that, but i dont want anybody to do that because those things and the parts of my personality theyre tied to are, i dont really know how to phrase this, something between "problematic" and "shameful" and "gross"? ultimately i firmly believe theyre better off being left in the past, which creates a kind of weird paradox, where i aspire to be known & understood, and i like for people to know stuff about my mindset and the reasons why i do things, and i like to share things about myself with my friends, but also there's this period of a couple years that i honestly have to basically black out from my timeline because it was so shitty. and it was shitty in a way that's different from the ways the genuinely traumatic parts of my life were shitty, which im not actually that hesitant to talk about, like about my dads death and my toxic relationships with my high school boyfriends, i dont think theres any benefit to keeping those things secret... and theres definitely parts of those stories that i dont share as willingly but thats mostly because i think they would make other people uncomfortable, and might be triggering and stuff, not because they make *me* uncomfortable to think about necessarily. ultimately what im getting at is that my current self is like, layers built around previous layers yknow like a pearl or something, and some of the previous layers have bad shit in them, and i hope & believe that the newer layers cover that stuff up and even it out and everything, but there was still an influence there even if you cant see it. so really knowing and understanding me means that you would have to know about that, and i dont want people to know about it, but i do want people to understand me. thats the paradox. maybe ive kind of buried the lead here. i mean this whole post is basically just rambling nonsense anyway but whatever.

its an ongoing struggle not to be mad at my past self(/selves) and i have to consciously forgive myself for basically every mistake ive ever made, which sucks, and i think maybe id make more progress with accepting my past decisions if i bit the bullet and dealt with that problematic shit in a more unflinching way but honestly, im ok with "avoidant" being my major character flaw. i mean ive gotta have at least one right? id just be boring otherwise. so im gonna keep flinching a little, and not sharing the worst parts of me, even if they might help people understand the current me a little better. thats probably the actual thesis of all of this.

[jobethdalloway]

CLEXACON RECAP omfg

bc this needs to go somewhere & @mnhooch was kind enough to ask. tried to bold some highlights bc this is basically a long-ass diary entry ramble haha

-the first thing I went to was a panel called “Gaysian: Queer Asian Representation in the Media” with 4 incredibly rad/funny/super smart folks. Really enlightening convo on finding bits and pieces of characters who don’t look like/sound like you to relate to. A highlight: the first question was asking them if there are any queer Asian characters in the media they related to growing up and the last one said “Well, of course, Mulan” and there was like this loud “MMMMMM yeahhhh” that like rippled through the audience. Pressed to clarify which Mulan: “THE CARTOON one, come on”

-the moderator for the LGBTQ Actress panel was hilarious and the women on it were all wonderful so it was great to get to hear from them/learn about them but for me it was ALL ABOUT STEPHANIE BEATRIZ OMMMMMMGGG. Seeing how bubbly she is irl is a good reminder of how solid her performance is as Rosa like dang. Highlight: Stephanie tearing up talking about how much it meant to her to read the dialogue “I’m bisexual,” laid clearly and deliberately, in the script where Rosa come out 

-SO MANY STUNNING BUTCHES EVERYWHERE??? omg. also it was just really cool to be in a space with so many women and nb folks. Pretty much every other gay-anything I’ve tried to go to has been 98% cis gay guys so this was like huge in a way I wasn’t anticipating

-OLDER WOMEN WHO’VE BEEN WAITING DECADES FOR GOOD REPRESENTATION, and they were there, and they love the shows we love and it warmed my heart. Also people came from around the globe for this and that was so cool

-AMAZING COSPLAYERS!!! Faves: 2 people dressed as Valkyries, Xena & Gabrielle, and too many gorgeous Alex Danvers(...es) to count

-saw a group of short documentaries, some of which were like ok but there were 2 great ones - butch coyolxauhqui (x) (about a butch learning to love her body with the help of her mother & an Aztec goddess) and a place in the middle (x) (about a Hawaiian child reclaiming traditional notions about gender from an awesome teacher)

-an awesome panel on butch representation in the media! Wish more people could’ve made it to that one. Such an important reminder that there is soooo far to go. Good introspection about internalized lesbophobia (”cured” tomboys in kid movies; butches being the lesbian equivalent of effeminate men where the stereotype is what our internalized phobia wants to get away from instead of embracing as we should)/the fact that it’s a stereotype but still like never seen?? and if it is seen, is usually negative. sigh.

-a panel on sapphic fanfic! Which was actually really inspiring and makes me want to get back into writing. Because I love it. I love writing, you guys.

DAY 2? ALREADY OMG

-started off the day in the way, way back of the auditorium for the Wayhaught panel which was so much fun! Kat & Dom are too adorable for words. Highlight: Kat’s response when asked about her thoughts on things like fanart/fanfic. idk, it was really heartwearming/inspiring. Something along the lines of, “this character may look like me but it’s the spirit of Nicole that matters, and the spirit belongs to all of us, not just me” ergo she sees fanart and sees Nicole, not herself. No single person/entity owns the character. idk that was just a really awesome thing to hear an actor say 

-short comedies!! Sadly I had to duck out of this one early, but I loved 2 of the ones I saw here - a USC thesis (trailer) and a hilarious/touching one by a Philippine filmmaker called “salamagan” that unfortunately I can’t find online anywhere

-CHYLER LEIGH. CHYLER LEIGH, HOLY SHIT. This was like. The most moving Q&A I think I’ve ever been able to experience. As I was sitting there, it really registered with me how shitty it felt to have to put up with actresses (not just a certain 2) for years who were ashamed - vocally and specifically - of fans like us. Not for being over-zealous, but being queer and having queer feelings and seeking validation. How shitty it felt to have those actresses make fun of us on talk shows; make us feel gross/stupid/deluded/embarrassing for feeling the way we did & thus perpetuating internalized fears and shame in abundance. I know there are plenty of actresses who are truly great allies and who care about their LGBTQ fans, but Chyler like ... is so engaged?? She was so emotional and you can see that she gets it, she does not take her responsibility lightly and she is wonderful. I was also reminded of the distinction between seeing ourselves/hearing ourselves in media. bc i’m white, I do get to see queer characters who look like me more and more on TV/the movies (certainly more than I was a kid), but Alex is the first(/only?) one who I’ve really heard myself in and that feels significant Highlight: I got to ask her a question! And I was the last one they had time for so phew. Here’s a link to the whole panel, set to start at my question *^^ (but I definitely recommend watching the whole thing the next time you have an hour to spare) (I MADE HER LAUGH. Kinda hard to make out what I said at the beginning, which is, “oh wow, lesbians are short” bc I’m almost 6′ tall and the mic stand was very very low) (I WAS TREMBLING THE WHOLE TIME Y’ALL) 

-highlight: a DELIGHTFUL/wonderful feature called “Signature Move” (trailer). You want a good lesbian movie? HERE’S A GOOD LESBIAN MOVIE!!! Nobody dies, no lesbians have to date men, one of the leads is a butch Pakistani-American and the other is Mexican-American and we see their complicated/beautiful relationships with their mothers and it’s FUNNY AS HELL and the leads are HANDSOME AND BEAUTIFUL AS HELL and it needs all the viewers

-highlight: I got to meet @thefootlightclub and @missmaclay after years of being tumblr buddies!! They are both delightful/amazing people and it was so fun to like, fangirl irl with people. And since I went to this con alone, it was really cool to get to talk to other people about it, haha. They introduced me to some awesome peeps including the lovely @amyroot! Thanks y’all for being so friendly and welcoming me in. Also @thefootlightclub and I talked about how June Allyson should totally have a massive lesbian following bc Jo March and that voice, amirite #imright

DAY 3 OH NO THE WEEKEND IS ENDING

-really sad short films today!! Most of them not great, but there was one that wove in Mrs Dalloway and that was pretty cool/I was stunned to see that the cinematographer was a childhood friend of mine! Who is Mormon! And apparently worked on a film about lesbians! He’s a cool guy and that was a fun surprise. One of the films was pretty powerful and gave me AYLT feels (if my epilogue had been depressing AF) (trailer)

-there was a panel called “empowerment through fandom,” which was nice but pretty much wound up being for Earpers. Validating to know one of the panelists was a reporter and it’s like aha okay this stuff is for people in all walks of life/professions/ages. Validating all around. 

-I wandered around the vendor booths and picked up a couple of pins/postcards. So many talented people! Probably just as well that I didn’t look too hard at this stuff until the last day bc stuff was sold out and I probably would’ve spent $$ I didn’t have on some of these rad shirts/posters haha

-went to a panel on Queer Films, which I kind of thought would be more of like a presentation/discussion on the history of films but it was more about how to get them made/how hard it is to do that. The panelists and moderator were great, though, and had some great insights. Specifically, the producer of “Elena Undone” (which I admit I could not finish but deeply wanted to like) talked about how you have to do the best with what you have bc sometimes you just can’t raise the money you want/need to get the film you’d really like bc people don’t like to finance lesbian films and that was kind of humbling to keep in mind

-rounded it all out by watching DEBS, obviously one of the greatest films of all time. Highlight: there were a lot of older women at the con, which was really wonderful to see, and 2 of them were sitting behind me. One said to the other, “I wasn’t sure I was going to come to this but these kids downstairs said ‘oh you totally have to go.’ Well, one said, ‘you “totes” have to,’ which I took to mean ‘totally.’” It was great to hear them laughing behind me the whole time! WHAT AN ICONIC MOVIE. 

-I got to eat at Cafe Rio which is always ALWAYS A PLUS

Anyway, wow, what a fantastic weekend. I feel so, so lucky that I was able to go and meet so many amazing people and hear so many amazing people and be surrounded by the love. I never ever thought I’d go to a con - not for any condescending reason, just bc I never thought there was enough I’d ever be interested in to make it worth attending. But this? Wow. Tailor-made for me - for so many of us. If I had a wish then it would be that we could all go to Clexacon next year!

/is it next year yet 

[omnigon]

I mean... not really... the problem here is that I’m terrified of people on this fucking website. I really haven’t HAD my conception of gender challenged because I USED to believe in it, but then I realised it actually doesn’t make sense. I also believe that everything in the human body has a physical cause. I also dislike believing in things that don’t add up just because people insist that they do. Unless some day it’s discovered that it actually, genuinely is a thing instead of some esoteric self-conception like otherkin I can’t bring myself to give in to it. It’s not about nonbinary people and their lives, it’s about how this website punishes people who disagree with the zeitgeist. How there are people who, when I SAY to them that I don’t believe it, will end being absolutely horrible to me. And I will never have any way of knowing until it’s too late.

So, unfortunately you’re wrong. You don’t know my history. I used to ID as nonbinary years ago, until I realised I’m very much just a man in the wrong body. It was after this point that I really really wondered whether or not any of my previous ID was based in fact, or in tumblr pushing an anti-male agenda that made me subconsiously avoid my actual gender for fear of criticism (”If I’m a man then all those anti-man posts end up being about me, and I’m too weak-hearted for that.”) and I feel like this is something that never gets talked about, The massive inconsistensies in nonbinary labels also makes me question the legitimacy of any of it. It’s very easy to choose to identify as something. It really is. I honestly refuse to believe that anyone is born nonbinary the way people are born trans, UNLESS, (and this is the only thing that would ever make me believe) it turns out that atypical gender dysphoria is a thing like ordinary gender dysphoria. But from what I’ve read (and I’m not an ~expert~ or anything) that doesn’t seem to be the case. So... in my opinion... it’s a choice. In my opinion MOST people who ID as nonbinary are just ordinary trans people who haven’t realised it yet. If atypical gender dysphoria is a thing, I doubt as many people would suffer from it like normal dysphoria, unless it turns out to be more common. I don’t know. This is entirely speculation, because we actually don’t know enough to make the call. But on here, obviously, EVERYONE knows it’s totally real and if you disagree then you are, without a doubt, a filthy transphobe who should die. It really reminds me of religion in this case, something I vehemently oppose.

Also my mental health really doesn’t matter right now. I would feel this shitty even if I were overeating. It took me like 5 hours of sleep to realise why any of this is even happening, and that I’ve done this exact fucking thing before. Every time I get even a LITTLE close to someone on here, and I mean even a little, a thing goes off in my brain that makes me think of why they would hate me. With the last person I was ‘friends’ with on here it’s because I renounced feminism (for egalitarianism), and that person is super into social justice, and that was during a period of my life when social justice things on here felt like an obligation instead of anything I was genuine about. But I knew that if I were against feminism they’d hate me and think I was a piece of shit! So I had to cut them off. Then this, someone who was kinda close mutuals with me, I couldn’t get over the fact that we disagree on this thing, and me being terrified me, I had to cut him off too.

This is going to happen to the next person who tries to get even remotely close to me. I’ll accept it for a while, then my brain will do a little flip in my head and tell me to hate myself for having one or two differences, because that person would surely already hate me if they knew. Same shit different day. The only winning move is not to play, clearly. The problem is, I never remember that I do this. Then, when I’m trying to interact with someone, suddenly I feel shame and guilt instead of fun, and the only way to stop it is to push the person away, ‘cause I know that’s what they would want if they knew about it. Rinse and repeat, forgetting every time, because my brain’s ability to remember shit chronologically is so unbelievably shot, until today I actually FORGOT that I used to HAVE a close-ish friend on here. It doesn’t help that I have a very fucked up past where I was in a bizarre, outlandish situation as a child and I did bad things because I was in such a bad environment. I don’t believe in free will anymore (I’m a determinist and I believe that everything has already happened in the sense that the conditions for it are set up right now, and time is mostly a perceptual illusion, and that all human thoughts and ideas come from the subconsious processes of the human brain, the innerworkings of which we may never fully quantify) but I still blame myself for what I chose to do out of anger. It’s the sort of thing that will definitely make me push someone away at some point.

I’m just going to give up. I can’t actually like people because I’m not good enough for anyone. I’m a constant disappointment to myself. I’m a failure. I genuinely shouldn’t even be USING this site because the ‘social’ aspect of social media really flies over my head, to the point where my primary usage of this site is actually to archive posts I like, not share them. I’ve known this for a while, but the dumb monkey part of my brain is still ooh-ooh-ah-ahing for other people’s attention, even though not only is it fake and hollow, I really, really don’t deserve even that, clearly. I can’t make friends. Either I’m too stupid for someone, or when I DO get a little close, I sabotage it by pushing them away before they can even get to know me. I don’t even know why I do it, except I’m terrified of being hated. That’s the bottom line, that’s the REAL reason I’m twisted up about all this. I feel like I have many hateworthy aspects and this website seems to punish those who refuse to conform. There’s clearly no point in me trying to find friendship. I need to realise that at this point it’s just not going to happen. I have a desire but no drive, I never, ever talk to new people (Or even people I’ve talked to before) because they terrify me (I mean, what if they’re a genius or a great artist or an asshole or something) so I just sit here and pretend that people I’ve never talked to actually give a shit about me. It’s pathetic. I need to just stop, and realise that NO ONE actually gives a shit about me, there’s no reason to, and since I’m going to ruin it ANYWAY I may as well spare myself the ache and not even bother trying.

I have no idea if this is how other people experience this shit website, I really don’t. I just know that I feel like I’ve been stuck on this site for so long I don’t have any alternatives (and IRL is out of the question). I also have no idea what I’m “supposed” to be doing here or whether I’m using the fucking website correctly. I just... I don’t know. I’m going to give up. Reblog cat videos. Speak my mind even though I know some day an anon will tell me to KMS and I’ll have to actually consider it because everyone else is worth so much more than me, if one of them wants me dead, there HAS to be a good, well-thought-out reason for it. Because everyone is smarter than I am (and I mean fucking everyone I am dumb as dirt). I want to not give a shit and just do me, but whenever I see a post I disagree with, I imagine myself reblogging with my dissenting opinion, and then being made fun of by OP, losing my followers and ending up getting harassed by people who know literally nothing else about me. It’s not like this is outlandish, anyway, we all know how tumblr is. I just feel like once I’m Hated I no longer get to be a person, so even my suffering doesn’t matter. I mean something like this has happened before, but thankfully it was small. I told someone that what they said about people with my specific internal experiences on this one specific thing was actually really untrue, because I experience the thing they said was impossible and just a fad. They told me that not only was the sad, crying message I sent them the funniest thing they’d seen all week, but that I was actually misinterpreting my internal experiences. Now? I never, ever, ever talk about my system and when I DO it’s super short and covert. Because I’m afraid of being called fake. So I guess I’m a hypochrite in this regard. Just proves how shitty I am. Doesn’t change the fact that this website is fucking awful about disagreements. I mean, after that exchange I got an ask about something I said in the PM, which meant that I got screenshotted and made fun of. I guess I kind of deserved it for being openly upset while disagreeing with someone. Obviously on the Internet the whole “U mad?” thing has been going on for years. So as a highly emotional fucking person I don’t GET to be a part of disagreements, because the way I do it is wrong.

Because of all this shit, the shit I went through on this site and IRL, I have learned that I don’t matter, my thoughts and feelings don’t matter, and my wellbeing doesn’t matter. Thankfully, I’m a nihilist who believes that nothing has any inherent meaning or value, everything just Is, so me being human actually means nothing more than the sum of my parts+ my consciousness, making me worth about as much as any average mammal on planet Earth. I don’t think any one really matters though. I mean sure to each other we do, but that’s only because as a social species we have a natural altrustic drive. This is why we THINK we matter when in reality we are animate dust, held together by tape and glue, kept conscious by an organ that has literally gotten us here through sheer trial-and-error. I always hate saying this stuff because I know it makes me sound cold, but I’ve seen the darkest parts of people. I’ve seen humans treated like literal garbage. If humans had inherent value this would be impossible. Just like if God were real this would be impossible. It’s stupid how caught up I am in how other people feel about me when I know objectively, when I’m in the ground, none of it will matter. That, cosmically, none of anything matters. Actually, when I was a young teenager I was so, so distraught by my cosmic insignificance. I can’t help but be a nihlist. I mean, now I’ve come to terms with it and rejected the ideas of God or an afterlife specifically because they place undue importance on humans.

So I’m going to keep sitting here feeling like shit because at this point I have no fucking clue what I could do to feel better that doesn’t require effort I can’t expend right now. I’m not going to fucking eat because I really feel like I don’t fucking need it OR deserve it. Besides, I don’t do this very often, and I was a huge asshole by cutting him off like that. I have no idea how he feels about it but I know that this is the end. And I hate it. It hurts. It hurts but I can never, ever make myself not do it, because the alternative is stewing in anxiety and feeling increasingly nervous about lying by omission by not telling people how I really feel about things. I’m going to be fine, I already covered my forearms in bruises (and stupid dainty crushable little wrists to a lesser degree) so it’s not like witholding food is going to make things even worse somehow. In fact, sometimes when I’m hungry I can’t cry at all, so really I think it’s a good thing to punish myself.

Besides, I’m a really, really shitty person and I don’t deserve to live.