#this is late but i debated with myself whether to contribute anything and then i didn't really have time to finish it in time lol

[lenasai]

a lil confession from a guy who used to like blaseball. going to preface with i absolutely loved it, the culture, the community, the characters and setting and all. i made art, wrote fics, bought the albums. but as someone who wasnt usamerican, who lived on the opposite side of the world in fact, i always felt a little left behind. joining late contributed to the feeling of lockout, timezone mismatch meant that i slept through events like voting, and the finale.

and… the communal character building. sometimes i felt like i had to force myself to use a usa-centric lens to see what everyone else saw. the deicide jokes were funny, but not when my actual rl faith started being teased and challenged as well.

i think i'll still always keep a shard of blaseball near and dear to my heart. the good parts of it really were amazing. but sometimes when i see people say they miss it, i think, i wish i could miss it as fiercely as you guys do too.

hey, i wanna say thank you for sharing this with me. i think it's an important perspective to put out there. i debated on whether i wanted to maintag it since i don't have a way to reach out and ask if it's okay to do so, but i really think other people should see it. (you can always send me another message if you want me to delete it and i will do so asap)

blaseball, as a game and as a community, was wonderful and overall a net positive, but it was by no means perfect. it had its flaws like any other community, in this case driven by the fact that its active fanbase was largely white and centered in the united states. there were a lot of people who felt ostracized by a community that was supposed to be welcoming to everyone - and whether it was people not knowing how to keep a bit contained to the circumstances of its universe or shutting down discussions about problems in character writing, there were people who got hurt. we cannot and should not pretend that never happened.

and of course, as you mentioned, the game was designed in a way that mostly centered the united states. i think there were attempts to fix this during coronation with planned events at different times, but we never got to see that play out. hell, you could even see it in which locations got to be represented by teams. i'm not personally sure how i feel about the fact that a lot of the teams that were represented outside of the us were prehistory teams. it feels like they took a step in trying, but those are all teams that wouldn't ever see active play, so it rang a little hollow to me.

at least from my perspective, it seemed like there were dialogues happening about this and that there was progress being made to fix those issues, but then the game ended and we didn't get to see anything come out of it. i really don't want to see that all be for nothing. i hope that everyone who learned something from this community will take those lessons and apply them to how they interact with other communities.

thank you again. i am truly sorry we didn't get to have the same experience.

[hgtmigirlxx]

Where I Went: A Statement

So . . . it’s been a hot minute.

If I recall correctly, I last posted in 2018. Despite the rapidly aging cells of my brain wishing to believe otherwise, that was five years ago now. I essentially disappeared from everywhere-with the exception of my Youtube channel-five years ago. In saying that my Youtube channel was an exception, even it evolved past the theming and topics that the people who followed this blog watched my videos for. 

I feel compelled to say I’m sorry. I don’t believe that I had anyone on tender hooks wondering where I disappeared to or why I vanished at all. However, my inbox is full with more than one hundred messages, ones which would feel far too odd and far too late to directly respond to now. So I figured that an update was in order.

TW: Mental health; self harm

The Fandom Side

It’s important to note that for the majority of my usage of Tumblr, I was a minor. I turned 18 in 2016, so was only an adult for a year before I left.

The truth of the matter is that Tumblr became an unhealthy environment for me. This site has come so far in so many ways in terms of user behaviour since the day I left, but I think anyone who was on this website during the difficult periods know exactly the type of toxicity that used to run wild here. And I am not totally blameless. I was complicit, and I think that that realisation contributed to my decision to leave.

I was getting involved in fandom discourse and drama on a regular basis. It began in my Hunger Games days and continued into my Shadowhunters era. When it came to the fandom side of Tumblr, there was always a fight to be had. Drama was always just around the corner and if you didn’t word yourself correctly or god forbid shipped something the majority considered wrong, then you were opening yourself up to attack. And I was on both sides of the attacker and the attacked. I think most of us usually are. No one is totally blameless. Whether I was white knighting Claudia Trisac against the Joshifer shippers or being the Anti-CC provocateur in order to big up Shadowhunters, I was always inserting myself into drama in defense of what I thought was the moral and right side.

It got to the point at times where I was constantly checking my blog notifications to make sure no one was reblogging me with a nasty comments or sending me hateful asks. It was interfering with my mental health, and my mental health had already taken a huge hit in 2017.  That’s not to say that genuine debate didn’t take place from time to time. However, this wasn’t common. I advocate for proper debate on my Youtube channel and I think part of the desire to do that was because of how disagreements on this website usually went down. Of course, it also happened on Youtube and across all platforms, such is the nature of social media, but I have lessened my contribution to such behaviour. I’m satisfied with the strides I’ve taken with this. I definitely feel like I’m a lot more responsible with my media consumption.

Mental Health and Autism

A year before I left this site, in the summer of 2017, I had a mental breakdown. A pretty big one, to be honest. I quit college and became a shell of a person due to a severe case of generalised anxiety disorder. Doing anything that went outside of my everyday norm and routine caused extreme distress. My anxiety expressed itself very physically, such as vomiting, trembling and on occasion passing out. This resulted in me being taken into A&E for self harm that Autumn.

I spent the proceeding years pretty much just trying to cope. Trying to survive. Mental health services suck, especially when you’re an adult struggling. The hospital gave me six sessions with a counsellor and a pat on the back. Once those six weeks were up, I was expected just to get on with my new medication and no problems. So I did. Or tried to. I didn’t go back to school, nor did I get a job. It felt like I was just existing, and it still does in many, many ways. There were some benefits, though. I helped my sister raise my nephew and I developed an unmatchable bond with him because of this; a rare connection that I doubt I will ever have with another child (unless I have my own, obviously). That was round about the time I disappeared from this blog. I made my post about my book-which we’ll get to-and then sort of vanished.

In 2019, I put myself in to be put on a waiting list for an Autism Assessment. Being twenty one at the time, many asked why I was doing it. What was the point if I wasn’t a kid anymore? I always say the same thing in return. I needed answers. An anxiety diagnosis did fit me but I always felt like there was something else. Like I had only gotten half an answer instead of a full one. Events and behaviours that traced back to my childhood that couldn’t possibly have been anxiety. I wasn’t anxious when I was five. I was actually incredibly outgoing. So why did I hate fireworks and discos and crowded shops and struggled so much trying to make friends? Why was I so focused on these fandoms in my teenage years? Why was I so obsessed that I couldn’t put the phone down and separate myself from that world? That wasn’t anxiety either.

Last year, on May 31st, I was diagnosed with autism. Hearing those words felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had an answer. Everything suddenly made so much sense. This anxiety I had been diagnosed with in 2017 was very much still anxiety, but it was an anxiety that stemmed from something much larger. Something much larger that had been a part of me all this time, but had been neglected for twenty three years. 

Co. Down Woman Opens Up about Being Diagnosed with Autism at 23

Now, I’m not using autism as a shield for the fights I used to get into on here. That was all me, whether I was knowingly autistic or not. My neurodivergence doesn’t excuse me from that. In fact, I cringe at the idea of someone excusing my previously argumentative nature just because I’m autistic. It is not a protective blanket; an excuse to throw at people to avoid culpability. All it did, for me, was explain a great deal of stuff such as why I did certain things, or behaved in certain ways. But an excuse? Absolutely not.

The Seven

My final post on this blog before I became Houdini and vanished into the ether was about being published. This did happen. In April 2019, my debut novel The Seven released on Amazon. It’s an LGBTQ+ urban fantasy, and centers around seven characters who have supernatural abilities based on the day of the week they were born on. I never got around to doing an official announcement before I decided to stop posting, which is a shame because there are some congratulations messages in my inbox that I feel terrible for not responding to. I appreciate you, even though the chances of you seeing this are incredibly slim.

Just last year, The Seven became an Amazon Kindle exclusive and can be read for free if you have Kindle Unlimited. Sorry, that feels like a shameless plug but I wanted to let you guys know that the book I last posted about did happen. It wasn’t a pipe dream, or a lie, or bait before I left. 

The Seven ebook

If you’ve been following this blog since my fanfiction days, then this is a really nice achievement to be able to share. A “heh, look, I actually did it!” type of moment. I could have done it earlier. I potentially should have done it earlier. But the time never felt right to come back. Better late than never, I suppose? If you do ever decide to read my word stained pages, drop me a line or an ask and let me know what you thought, yeah?

The Future

I want to come back to this website, but I will be doing so hesitantly. I’m going to take my time and gauge how my psyche behaves. If I sense myself becoming unhealthily obsessed again, or if I feel myself falling back into old actions, I most likely won’t return for good. But at least I will have this post here to fill you guys in on where I went and what happened in the period of time I was away. I’ll probably do a bit of rebranding on here regardless, because I have outgrown hgtmigirlxx and some of her quirks.

Most of all, I want to thank everyone who made my Tumblr experience so enjoyable. Despite everything I said here, I loved this site and my blog and my mutuals. It was fun, and it was silly, and it was good. To the insane fellows who are still following this dumb blog, I see you guys and I love you. You’re all so important to me. 

If you made it to the end of this stupidly long post, you deserve a medal of perseverance. But thank you for bearing with me! Your dedication is admirable and you’re amazing.

Kind regards,

Erin

Where Else to Find Me

[wheeling]

The Hellfire club was a place for the freaks and weirdos and outcasts, the type of people who didn’t really feel like they had a place within the hellish walls of high school. Mike already tried giving up DnD once before and had ultimately decided that it’d been a stupid thing to do. He didn’t want to try to fit in with the popular kids. The popular kids were assholes, and it was always for stupid reasons like not having enough money to afford expensive clothes, or for not living in a ritzy neighbourhood, or for liking tabletop games like Dungeons and Dragons. He'd been picked on since elementary school, and he wasn't about to try to become friends with the enemy.

Perhaps the weirdest in Hawkins High was Wednesday Addams: a girl who always dressed like she was attending a funeral and who Mike was fairly certain he hadn’t seen smile. From what he’d been able to observe—without trying to stare too much, like she was some sort of newly discovered species at the zoo that he knew nothing about—she was always so stoic and deadpan, and yet she was making the effort to reach out to the Hellfire Club by putting invitations to her birthday party in their lockers. There was much talk about it among the members, all of them debating on whether not they should make an appearance since they'd been briefly acquainted.

As it turned out, Mike was the only one to show. A surprising appearance, most likely, considering he was someone who avoided social gatherings unless it was with friends or included DnD. House parties? Forget about it. When he arrived at the location, stepping inside the large property, he felt his heart sink a little at the realization that nobody else was here. There wasn't a bunch of socializing or laughing or anything of the sort echoing throughout the building to tell him that other people were here. As much as he wanted to claim he was just early or others were just running late, he knew that the truth was likely much more disappointing. He had half a mind to just turn and leave, because he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do all by himself and whether it would be weird or not, but he found himself rooted in place when Wednesday had revealed herself to him from behind the wall. Her words alone were enough to sway him into staying, for it would be too sad to leave her by herself on her birthday.

❝I guess I sort of surprised myself too. I mean, just because I'm not really much of a party kind of guy.❞ Birthday parties were different than house parties, however. ❝Oh—I also brought you something.❞ Arm stretched out, a bag was dangled from his hand for Wednesday to take from him. ❝So I wasn’t really sure what to get you, and it’s cool if you think it’s stupid, it's just—I thought it would be weird to show up to a birthday party totally empty handed.❞ If she were to open it, she’d discover that it was a decent sized book. The pages consisted of numerous detailed tales of horror, all based off of or taking influence from true stories. She seemed to have some morbid interests, and her invitations had all been decorated in a horror-type of style (which also likely contributed to the others deciding against coming) so he figured this was one of the safer options.

♱ starter for @wheeling

mother warned her, be careful who you make acquaintance of, she heard it, but refused to listen. a bad habit perhaps, since her family will always have wednesday’s best interest in their darkest hearts. alas, the damage was done long before she began scheming the plan for her birthday. invitations were carefully crafted, adorned with small individual drawings, though most of them contained either flying birds or a kitchen knife. she had already announced to her mother she was expecting a couple visitors, although no invitation was yet sent. she had already discussed with her father the issues in his ludic behavior which could, potentially, scare the highschool kids. she wasn’t ashamed, she just wanted to have a morbid little party — there was nothing wrong with that. a week prior to her birthday she had placed the invitations in some lockers directed towards mostly the hellfire club members. and she waited, patiently, solitarily, with a tiny black heart on her sleeve. and days flowed, but no answer was ever received. her hopes fading little by little with each passing day, realizing no one cared enough to attend her birthday party. how foolish she was, to bet with her mother that she had acquaintances she could count on during celebrations of life and death.

the dreadful day had come, it felt much more hastened than she anticipated, how quick days go by. at the very least, she was closer to her death day. that was enough of a reassurance, as motivating as it could be, standing in juxtaposition with the irredeemable fact that she was lonelier than she believed. wednesday woke up from her deathless sleep and tried to ignore her family’s kind regards — truth was, it slowly but steadily became more irritating with each passing moment. she hadn’t thought much of birthday parties until this unfortunate year. she was in the living room, skimming through an archaic book of spells and jinxes when she noticed pugsley running around the house, the sound irking. wednesday catches the sound of the front door opening and she shuts the book close. curious to see what happened, if perhaps, someone did accept her invitation and did not forget about it. a flicker of hope burning, trying to remain alive and thrive within her soul. peeking from behind a corner of a wall, she took a first glimpse of the individual wandering across the addams property and, to her utter surprise, it was a familiar face.

“you came…” she muttered, revealing her tiny frame from behind the wall. she was taken aback, out of all the people she invited, for mike was not a person she would’ve considered to attend, all by himself anyway. eying him up and down, as to discern what was occurring, much to her disbelief.

[thereigning-lorelai]

for the rebelcaptain fic rec week

i’ll find you in the morning sun by @callioope

“Why did you write back?”

She stops in her tracks. If she’d thought she’d been surprised before…

He continues a few steps before he notices and whirls around, his feet smearing the snow on the pavement.

“Why did you write first?”

They stare at each other, at an impasse, neither of them willing to disrupt the balance, to take the first step towards a lighter world. Both of them know, at least in some hidden capacity, that something floats between them, something could lift them, could show them how to fly. But they are not dreamers, with their heads in the clouds, and the talk of war weighs heavy on their shoulders. And falling from such a great height hurts; they’ve borne such bruises since they were children.

[cinnamonbean]

So I recently read The Wasp's Nest by @demonslayedher, and as usual, began obsessing. I've been following the author here under my main blog for a while, and it's very easy to add onto or hyperfixate on their ideas. I genuinely can't find many blogs like theirs, but it's really cool; and I want to appreciate that.

Below the cut is going to be a simple collection of thoughts I had upon reading chapter one because,, oh my goodness; I have a lot?? For some reason? And I will probably never be able to use them myself.

Whether or not I make this a mini-series for every chapter or few chapters is. Up for debate. I have a lot going on in my personal life right now, so we'll see. This is just Mocha rambling about a cool fic instead of working on their own fics goodbye.

Please keep in mind I did not read chapter two.

Please read the following with only chapter one in mind. I had to force myself to avoid chapter two to ensure I would finish this post. And while I contemplating that art I wanted to post alongside the icons,, I concluded that would take too long. So. Later.

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• You probably can't see it through the ugly filters but I used the opposite color from Kobayashi-San's hairclip for Mita's eyes. Vice versa for Kobayashi-San's eyes too.

• I know it looks more like green flame but I was actually trying to use water lilies as the motif for Kobayashi-San's eyes! :) I couldn't think of anything cool for Mita's,, so I made it the same flower shape as Koyuki-San's in vain efforts of referencing it to those round-winged butterflies people make? ,,,

• I can't really use butterfly symbolism for the clips. I also improvised on the colors since I really deadass did not know what colors to use. 💀 I didn't use light blue for the border of Kobayashi-San's because they reminded me of the flowers on Makomo's mask,, and I had a Hashira au where she had those colors on her own hairclip,,, I don't mind changing it if it helps the accuracy of the fic! >:)

• Speaking of hair clips,, you gave me a really good headcanon idea for Kanae rereading one of your older posts, but I will probably post it on it's own as a separate post.

• I'm automatically taking everything Mita says with a grain of salt?? Like she seems nice, just. She runs her mouth too much. Is it to cope? Hmm. It'd be interesting to see if Ichijo-Senpai had a larger impact on everyone than we're made aware. Like. Is it really so black and white that Kanao began smiling because of Kanae and Shinobu? Maybe she's just so used to seeing people die because of those other students that she really doesn't think the people she made it past final selection with won't make much of a difference. (I'm salty they were the only five because of plot armor, but that's a story for another day.)

• Mainly because of my personal unrelated headcanons, but I really don't think of Ichijo-Sempai as mean? But if she is,, I can see her contributing to Mita's general moodiness. Bad influences amirite. But also the possibility of her being generally nice and having her parallel one if not both of Mita and Kobayashi-San as we read along makes me weak in the knees.

• I couldn't decide if I liked freckles or facial acne for Mita better, so I gave her both and gave her that emo pale skin. Assholes don't get to have pretty faces I don't make the rules 🙄 (/hj).

• Shinobu, because of your content of her and how she acted in the fic gives me vibes of a practical woman who doesn't care for detailed or pretty looking things. Or believes in doing things simply because you like them. Which makes that scene of her eating with Giyuu even funnier. Like. "You're smiling at your food? D i s g u s t i n g." (/j).

• I'm also. Very sorry. Like VERY SORRY. BECAUSE FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CAN'T DRAW BLACK HAIR IT'S JUST NOT POSSIBLE FOR ME... Ya start with a color you think is close enough to black without being back. Then you add colored accents, put in shading. The lighting. And then, only when it's too late, you realize it. You've given them completely different hair colors. I swear I'm colorblind. (/sarc).

• I was also just too lazy to make the mouths. So they're pitch black and ugly. You're welcome :')

Here's the icons without filters! I originally wanted to make them edited with like gif thingy backgrounds?? BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW,, and I'm not waiting until chapter ten or worse is posted while I'm trying to figure this stuff out.

Before anyone asks, these are free to use, edit, etc. with credit. But really. I'm already cringing at several things in these icons. Really, where are Mita's ears even. Fjsnfjsjf.

Thank you for reading and have a good... whatever time it is where you are. 🚶‍♀️and ty for reading this if you read all the way through.

[infjparadox]

The types I know in real life - as an INFJ

The ISFJ father.  Growing up, he was a bit of a micro-manager, and both of us were so stubborn that our J clashed pretty hard, especially when he pushed me to complete scholarships and laborious things that would benefit my future.  He ALWAYS wanted to do some activity together (sports, outings, family gatherings, etc), and in my teen years, I just valued creative, independent pursuits (he didn’t understand the value in those hobbies at the time - now he’s my cheerleader).  Since graduating college, we’ve become good friends, although he still over-does and over-plans everything.  We share similar values regarding our interpersonal relationships and work, as well as a similar sense of humor, and I can get that intuitive conversation out of him by asking him to tell me stories about his childhood.   He’s a fantastic storyteller. 

The INFP mother.  My mother is a kind (but anxious) woman and a fantastic role model. She’s super creative, but also incredibly introverted.  I remember she’d often tell me to find a way to entertain myself growing up (probably driven mad by my intuitive inquisitions), and that led me to many of my independent hobbies, like drawing, music, and film. (And possibly resulted in a love language of quality time, lol I love attention).  As an adult, I can now claim her as my best friend.  We can talk for hours about the abstract, ideals, and emotions.  I tease her constantly, and we laugh ourselves to tears.  

The ENFJ sister.  Confident, idealistic, and a blogger type.  We don’t get along very well, but I blame it on her not being a very matured or healthy ENFJ (and she’s been diagnosed with OCD, so there’s that).  When she’s in a positive place, we joke that we have ESP because we always have similar thoughts / reactions to interactions (Ni) and we both enjoy a lot of the same hobbies and creative pursuits, but we value those experiences differently.  For example, she loves movies for the emotions and her ability to relate to the characters, while I love them for the storytelling, the script, the cinematography, the character arcs, etc.  She loves people and organizing parties / social events.  She’s also that person on Instagram sharing all the inspirational quotes.   

The ISFP boyfriend.  Charming, easygoing, and well-rounded. Appears as an extrovert to an outsider, but in reality, he just enjoys activities that engage the five senses and his close circle of friends. He’s the absolute best at living in the moment, and he knows how to pull me back to earth and to see the more rational, objective side of things.  Loves working with his hands, and has about 3 million hobbies, from skiing to biking to working on cars to making music to photography.  Sensitive to criticism, but loves playing the devil’s advocate.  Sometimes he can be incredibly impulsive, and other times, he’s hesitant to commit to future plans or big decisions (depends on what his Fi is telling him).  Values authenticity and independence above anything else.  Very capable of deep and stimulating conversation, but does better on lower rungs of the abstract ladder that are rooted in science, physics, conspiracy theories, politics, or something he can contribute facts and real world experience to.  Dislikes conflict and being put in a box.  Other than the INFP, the only other type who does not drain my energy tank.  I’m confident that we’ll be lifelong friends and soulmates, come what may.

The INFP friend.  We clicked instantly while studying abroad, and we were able to talk for hours about anything and everything, while respecting one another’s feelings.  Super easygoing.  He’s one of the best listeners I’ve ever met, and he always asks me questions that feed the conversation.  Musically inclined, authentic, and frustratingly neutral about some of the topics I care about so passionately.  He’s also one of the most aloof people I know -- and he absolutely sucks at communication.  But even though I haven’t talked to him in 7 months, I still consider him one of my platonic soulmates.  

The ENFP bff.  Another soulmate.  A total goofball, selfish at times, but also a martyr when it comes to those she loves.  She’s one of the few people who have truly attempted to understand everything about me and pry me open -- almost to the point that it’s uncomfortable.  Loves talking about emotions (extensively). Judges people based on their zodiac sign, but she’s also incredibly insightful, perceptive, and “street” wise (she learns a LOT from her experiences / mistakes).  She can be flighty though, and her goals change as swiftly as her attention span.  Gotta love her.

The ENTP bff.  A witty friend who will always offer me a stimulating conversation - whether it’s teaching me about historical fashion or exposing me to new concepts and ideas and political theories.  We can talk for three hours straight, but by then I’m incredibly brain-fried (and she could just keep going?!).  Up for a good natured debate whenever - less good natured when someone pisses her off.  I’m fairly certain I’m the only person she is completely honest with about her feelings (she struggles SO hard to open up).  She loves to travel and experience new things, as well as host parties and game nights.  She’s both a planner and a completely "in the spur of the moment” human being.  Hates willful ignorance and stupidity, and does not care about keeping the peace. I disliked her at first for her bluntness and arrogance, but now I love her to pieces.  Soulmate, for sure.

INTJ friend (long distance).  Very, very prickly to others, but warmed up to me instantly.  Arrogant, albeit extremely logical and intelligent.  Loves memes, biology, and good television.  Adores her girlfriend and gushes about her often (one of the rare instances where she’s a total fluff ball).  Kind of a dick, but also very funny and 100% there for companionable silence or intellectual conversation.  Enjoys being in a group of outcasts and detests most people.  We had a lot of weird things in common and joked about being long lost sisters, and I valued her promptness / dependability!  Her negativity kind of wore me out though (we were studying abroad, and she was homesick for most of it). 

The ENTJ boss.  I no longer work for her, but man, what a powerhouse.  Direct and blunt to a fault, but incredibly motivated and ambitious.  Will get things done, no matter what.  Big idea woman, not so great with the details and how her plans will actually (realistically) be implemented.  SO, so organized and anal, and yet somehow kind of a mess.  Surprises me when she’s emotionally vulnerable because she’s incredibly intimidating and intense.  Loves hosting parties and cooking for her coworkers / neighbors.  Those who are close to her know she has a good heart, but she can seem like a total b** to an outsider.

ISTP coworker.  She’s good at multitasking, and yet she runs late constantly.  Intelligent in the way she asks questions for clarity and a better understanding of a concept.  Calm, collected, and logical.  Creative and impressive in her projects (home remodel, upcycling crafts, etc).  Conversation is a bit surface-level at times and mostly centers around her day to day life experiences or family drama.  She’ll often ask me about my life and then tune me out because she quickly grows bored, as do many other sensors, rip T_T.  We’re a good team, though.

These are my personal experiences with / observations of particular individuals whose type I’m confident about, but they do not represent everyone of the same type.  If anything, I think this goes to show the range of personalities within a function stack.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision

The Marvel star takes us inside her transformation to a new kind of hero

GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 002

Magazine Scans > 2021 > Grazia

  GRAZIA: Elizabeth Olsen is a trooper. We are in a field in Surrey on the outskirts of the Marvel studios; it’s a biting minus one and she is standing in a Chanel broderie anglaise sundress and increasingly soggy UGG boots. Her feline cheekbones face skywards, but Olsen is slowly sinking into the mud, trilling out high notes to keep herself warm (possibly distracted) and of course with spirits high. “It was the wind I think, that was worse than the sideways rain,” she jokes as we trundle back to the soundstage hangar that we are using as a studio. It’s the kind of moment that could go viral on Instagram, that is, if Olsen were on social media. Yet one of the biggest stars of our current cultural moment is completely offline – and that surprising fact might just be the least interesting thing about her. If anything, it is a sign of how Olsen has come into her own as a confident, decisive star with the power to create her own universe.

On the cusp of her 32nd birthday, Olsen is fastidious and professional, yes, but also bright, engaging, creative, and collaborative. Born and raised in the California sunshine, she is surprisingly at ease in the blustery conditions that deluge the English countryside in late January – or, it’s that she’s very good at acting. “It was one of the ugliest days of this winter – just hilarious – but I knew we wanted the shot,” the 31-year-old actress says.

Since October, Olsen’s been living in the leafy British countryside with her “man-guy-partner,” musician Robbie Arnett, just a short drive to the Surrey compound where Doctor Strange is being filmed. It’s a closed set, masked in secrecy as much as the socially distanced masked crew dotted all over the 200-acre studio. “It feels right being in a small city right now,” she says.

Indeed, Olsen is a modern-day Renaissance woman. Learned and dedicated to her craft, she studied at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, with a semester at the Moscow Art Theatre School studying Stanislavski. (Surely, no matter how much of a genius the Russian theatre master was, he never could have conceived of the Marvel universe.)

Approached with the concept of WandaVision, “I thought it was perfect for television, and a very original idea that made me excited,” Olsen says. Also, she was happy she would get to work with Bettany again: “He’s very precise, like me.”

In many ways, WandaVision is a love letter to the first American television heyday. Olsen, who stayed up late watching Nick at Nite reruns as a child, says it’s a bit of a homecoming in that way. “I was a very hammy, performative child,” she explains. “So, I do think I got to live out some sort of childhood dream doing the show.”

“The highlight was really getting to tell a story about these superhero individuals told in different decades of American sitcoms, trying to match the tone of those sitcoms in order to help orate the story,” she says. “But keep it playful and fun.” Little did she know just how much we’d need that.

Half-filmed pre-pandemic in Atlanta and half post-pandemic in LA – with a six-month hiatus in-between “until all the unions figured out to work safely” – WandaVision was released almost a year into the pandemic. In many ways, it is an artifact of its time: centered upon a yearning for the simplicity of earlier days, yet shot through with the creeping realization that such days may never return, and perhaps never existed to begin with.

Indeed, the weekly story of suburban superheroes Wanda and Vision has played out like a parable of our times: Wanda living in her chosen bubble, her trauma resonating in the world we find ourselves in today. Olsen appreciates a good metaphor, but feels people may be projecting a bit much. “I see Wanda as a victim of extreme trauma, who does not understand how to process it,” she explains. “She has been a human experiment.” (Not to belabor the point, but haven’t we all?)

Being summoned by Marvel is like being called to a parallel universe for an actor: thrilling, yes, but not without a tinge of terror and a dash of the unknown. Six years in, though, it’s become like family in some ways. As a member of two dynasties – Olsen and Marvel – family is key to Olsen. She checks in on her mom (who still lives in California) and, like many American daughters, is researching which vaccine mom should get.

The performative gene runs strong through her family, of course – and no, we don’t mean her sisters. Olsen’s mom was a ballerina. Still, when she first started auditioning, Olsen took special care to carve her own path – one far from Full House. “Nepotism is a thing and I’m very aware of it,” she says. “And of course, I’ve always wanted to do it alone.” She did just that, her acting credentials consistently rising as her sister’s cemented their fashion kudos. Olsen bears a noticeable resemblance to her fashion-designer older sisters and her sartorial DNA is similarly low-key. She loves The Row (of course) and NYC label Khaite’s denim and cashmere.

For Olsen, her day job is like playing dress-up. This time around, she walked away from WandaVision with the girdle worn underneath her 50s wedding dress, laughing, “I mean, to have a custom undergarment like that, I felt like it was necessary!” Her WandaVision co-star, Kathryn Hahn, also became her shopping cohort when filming.

“She’s dangerous!” Olsen says. “She has the most exquisite, minimal but expensive taste.” It was Hahn who led Olsen to the independent boutique where she found the belted Julia Jentzsch trench that she wore to our shoot.

At the rail of samples compiled by the stylist, Olsen gravitates towards a spacious linen boilersuit and longline cashmere cardigan. Has she always been a tomboy, I ask? “I think I felt uncomfortable being a child being told they were pretty,” she says of her early auditions at age 10, adding that her love of ballet and musical theater could leave her “feeling exposed” at a young age.

Speaking of over-exposure, Olsen is distinctly offline in a time when so many are defined by their social media presence. Among celebrities and regular digital citizens, the perfect balance of online and off is up for debate, but Olsen is clear: social media saturation is a choice for all of us, and everyone needs to draw their own boundaries.

“It has to be a personal decision, right?” she begins. “So, my opinion has nothing to do with what anyone else does or doesn’t do with it.” Her own journey began when she momentarily dabbled with Instagram (since deleted), while filming Ingrid Goes West, director Matt Spicer’s frightening and funny debut feature about a social stalker, co-starring Aubrey Plaza.

Up until that time, she says, “I had never touched it before. I thought, ‘This is an interesting social experiment for myself, to see if it is a good source to talk about charities or a good source to talk about small projects, or to share something goofier about myself.’ But I think at the end of the day, what I discovered was one, I’m really bad at creating a perceived identity!”

“I didn’t find it very organic to who I am as a person,” she continues. “I found some joy in putting up silly videos, but I think the main reason I stopped – not I think, I know the main reason why I stopped – was because of the organization in my brain.”

“Lots of horrible things happen all the time. Or, lots of great things happen all the time. Whether it’s something terrifying, like a natural disaster or a school shooting or a death, there are so many things that happen, and I love processing information. I love reading articles. I love listening to podcasts. I love communicating about things that are happening in the world to people around me. And what I don’t love is that my brain organization was saying, ‘Should I post about this?’ That seemed very unhealthy ….”

“And to then contribute to these platitudes that I don’t really love, you have to subscribe to two different ways of thinking,” she says. “So, I didn’t like that, and there was a lot of it that was just bothering me for my own sake of what value systems I have.”

That’s not to say that there’s any inherent value system – pro or con – in using Instagram. Olsen is clear that like any other method of expression, it’s up to the individual to use it as they see fit. “I do see a use of it and how you can use it well for work,” she says. “But I don’t think that I would like to use that tool to promote myself.”

She’s private for a millennial yes, but not prim. On the photoshoot, lockdown experiences were shared, and Olsen recounted her (hilarious) first at-home bikini wax: banishing her husband upstairs “for an extended chat with his therapist,” her trusted waxer on speed dial, and microwave set to ping! (Yes, Olsen is a trooper, as I mentioned.)

We catch up over Zoom a week later, her hair once again pulled up in a casual topknot, her cashmere turtleneck simmering in a dark claret, and her entire being suffused with covetable understatement. She chats buoyantly against an unexpected backdrop of pirate ship wallpaper in the playroom of a house she shares with Arnett, who proposed with an emerald and diamond ring in 2019.

“We first started to try to make it the gym, but it was so cramped,” she says of the jolly space. The home gym was instead awarded a larger room, where Olsen loves to maintain a varied fitness regime – running, yoga, dancing, more – though after all the intense Marvel filming, she jokes, “maybe it’s time to give up on my body?!” Being comic book fit does sound grueling or “time-consuming fun” as she anoints the “strenuous physical demands.”

Like most of us, she is longing for the spring, but she still takes a regular constitutional walk in a nearby Richmond park, whatever the weather. “The deer are incredible; every time I see them I feel alive,” she says. “We have been lucky to have nature around us in lockdown.” It’s a marked difference from her paparazzi-populated home in the Hills. “They know our walks, where we get coffee, work-out…,” she trails off.

Her haven in Los Angeles is her backyard, complete with a mid-century swimming pool and an edible garden. “It’s crazy the blackberries grow like weeds! I love watching a kid’s first reaction to an edible garden,” she gushes That has been the part of the pandemic travel restrictions she’s found hardest: missing her friend’s children growing up, and others who have been born this past year that she’s yet to meet. They will no doubt all be treated to her homemade blackberry sorbet on her return stateside.

Yet, her time on British soil will likely be prolonged, with a prospective indie commencing filming here when Doctor Strange wraps. Prompted for more detail, her firm charm kicks in. “I can’t jinx it!” she insists. Still, she will share that she’s heavily involved in the creative, and that funding smaller productions in the current climate has been a challenge.

Through it all, Olsen has remained determined and calm. “I feel patience is my superpower. But my weakness also,” she says. “I feel like it gets tested more than others who don’t have a lot of patience. If someone learns you’re easygoing or that you’re relaxed, sometimes it gets taken advantage of.” While she waits for the green light on that film, she is busy producing a new children’s cartoon with Arnett, “about loving and caring for our world,” and has also written a children’s book about to be published by Random House, all while the demands of Marvel life continue to surround her.

Indeed, Olsen is a superhero for the modern age: Multi-hyphenate, but fiercely devoted to the craft that she loves; instantly recognizable, yet thoughtfully protective of her private life; a woman with style, substance, success, and deep rewarding relationships with those around her; focused on a vision of a better world for us all.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[freedom-in-the-dark]

James Flint Is Gay: A Meta Post

[slides into the Black Sails fandom late with Starbucks]

Hey! What’s up! Here’s a post no one asked for but I wrote mostly for me. Before we get into it, I’ve got some big notices to put on the top here.

DISCLAIMER: If you interpret James as bi, and you prefer that, I am not trying to say you can’t do that or to convince you otherwise! 

You do you! If you’re not cool with seeing him as gay, please do us both a favor and keep scrolling past this post! I’m mildly aware that this fandom has a history of rough discourse surrounding this topic, but I cannot emphasize enough that I am new here, and this post is not an attack. Please do me the courtesy of not attacking me or blocking me or whatnot because I’m not trying to start drama lol. And for what it’s worth, I myself am bi (well, bi ace), so I’d like to think I’m being objective.

This post exists simply because I like to write meta out with my arguments / evidence lined up in a row; it gets things out of my head and onto a screen, and I find it satisfying. And if I’m doing it anyway, I might as well share.

So if you see James as gay, or have an open mind to that interpretation… please allow me to take you on this adventure under the cut. I’m sure it’s obvious, but this contains spoilers? Lol.

Here we go!

Compulsory Heterosexuality vs “Bi Erasure”

Firstly… to address some stuff I’ve seen in my limited Black Sails fandom travels right out of the gate: I’ve seen people imply that interpreting James as gay is “bi erasure,” or they ask “Why are you erasing that James was attracted to Miranda and had an affair with her?”

But to that I say: it’s far more complicated than that.

Gay people can have sexual relationships with people of the opposite sex, especially until / or before they identify as gay. This is how so many gay people can be married to the opposite sex and have biological kids, and then later realize their truth and come out to themselves and their families. Having those experiences or even some variation of actionable attraction to people of other sexes in the past doesn’t negate their ability to later identify as gay, once they stop burying those parts of themselves and/or experience something that “brings that part of them into the light.”

This is why the phrase compulsory heterosexuality exists. The phrase was originally coined by Adrienne Rich in a 1980 essay titled “Compulsory Heterosexuality and the Lesbian Experience.” So yes, let me make this clear: this term originated in reference to lesbians and feminist theory, and then the idea was later expanded upon to include discussions of gay men by other academics in the early 2000s. I’m not gonna dive too deeply into it here, but in essence–as the name implies–this is the idea that patriarchal and heteronormative societies are viewed as the default, so individuals are assumed (by themselves and otherwise) to be heterosexual until “proven” otherwise. Through these standards that are seen as “normal,” people are also taught from a young age–whether explicitly or subconsciously through society–that anything that deviates from those ~straight norms~ leads to negative consequences. And so, society encourages people to avoid sexual exploration, because having experiences with someone of the same sex is what can often bring their gay identity into focus.

In the case of Black Sails, this is all very much emphasized at the forefront because it’s a historical drama. Aside from racism/slavery, patriarchy and heteronormativity are what the characters are actively going to war against.

So, the point in me defining all of this? No one—or at least, not me—is saying that James didn’t have a sexual relationship with Miranda. That’s not in question. But that doesn’t necessarily make him bi, and it doesn’t mean the narrative isn’t structured in various ways that indicate otherwise.

Just keep this in the back of your brain, because I’m going to circle back around to it.

Anne, Flint, & Gay Rage

In the wise words of an old pirate captain: “Fruit, fruit. Tits, tits.” This show thrives on parallels, and gives us lines / scenes that apply to more than one character; it’s partially why the themes are so consistent, and if you ignore that, you can miss a lot of the nuance. Our resident angry gay gingers are one of the paralleled sets of characters.

This is not a meta about Anne… but talking about parts of Anne’s story can help to highlight some things about James’ story.

I tweeted this once: “Flint and Anne’s sexualities paralleled to show struggles with compulsive heterosexuality, fighting for the sake of fighting, bringing parts of themselves into the light, wrestling with being told they’re monsters and their distorted senses of self, etc.” and really, now I’m just here to elaborate.

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The word “monster” is a recurring theme in this show. It’s tied mostly to Flint and how he is told he is monstrous for loving a man, fears being “the villain” or “monster” in everyone’s stories, and eventually embraces that monstrous portrayal in service of his goals–even as the violence is slowly devastating to him. But the other character the word “monster” is used in reference to? Anne.

A quote by Max:

“Idelle, how would you feel if the one man you thought would never betray you did? If he purchased for himself a future through that betrayal? If you were told by a world full of men that that betrayal confirmed for them that they were right to see you as a monster to be shunned? She's not mad. She is adrift.”

In some ways, this quote is also the story of what has happened to James in his life, over and over. (Not to say this is what Jack intended to do to Anne, but the parallels inherent in Max’s line itself cannot be denied.) 

James is repeatedly betrayed by those he trusts: Admiral Hennessey; Peter Ashe; Hal Gates. All of them try to get him to conform to heteronormative society–including Gates, because even if he didn’t know it, that’s what he was doing by trying to get James to take a pardon. That’s why James reacts with such instinctual panic and kills him; the idea of being forced to apologize to and assimilate back into heteronormative society puts him at a breaking point. (It can even be argued that Miranda “betrays” James in this way too by trying to get him to take a pardon and go to Boston–which is where his “and they called me a monster” speech comes in–and that also contributed to how James later panics and kills Gates for trying to force him to do the same. Miranda tried in a well-meaning way to get James to move on, because she isn’t fully understanding what James wrestles with; but I’ll go back to that.)

Again, these parallels are deliberate. Anne and Flint are the two main gay characters who wrestle with their supposed “monstrosity” in the eyes of everyone else, because they don’t fit in. They are “othered.” It’s not simply about their violence; for these characters, it’s about what their violence is in service of achieving, which is tied to their sexuality.

Anne is seen as a “monster” for slaughtering the men who abused Max, who is not only a fellow woman but also a fellow lesbian, in a way that Anne is undeniably drawn to even before she lets herself acknowledge the feeling. We as viewers are meant to see this and understand this, and we do. Anne is ostracized for violence that was motivated by her sexuality, which is partially why Max tells her that she understands her violence and will protect her–because Max is not only also a woman in a patriarchal society, but she is gay too.

Flint is seen as a “monster” first and foremost by England, for his sexuality… and then, later, by everyone else for the actions he takes because of his sexuality. Again: the violence he commits cannot be divorced from his sexuality because it is the reason for it. It’s what informs it.

I tweeted about this once too, but in many ways Anne and Flint’s kindred displays of brutality and anger and “fighting for the sake of fighting” (a quote by Miranda which applies to them both) are informed by their desire/need for gay tenderness. The world has too often denied them that tenderness and their expressions of their sexualities, or demonized them for wanting it, and their violence is the result. 

Here’s a quote from Deborah Tolman with regards to how compulsory heterosexuality affects men, which she calls “hegemonic masculinity”:

"These norms demand that men deny most emotions, save for anger; be hard at all times and in all ways; engage in objectification of women and sex itself; and participate in the continuum of violence against women."

The anger and hardness is a huge part of the personas both Flint and Anne have to put on for survival. I include Anne in this because she uniquely lives her life in a “male” role to survive the male-dominated world of piracy, and she’s clearly not immune from these unspoken masculine guidelines: she refers to Max as “the whore” half the time as a defense mechanism. Flint and Anne lash out, they’re hard and angry and violent for the sake of their personas, and it’s all because... inside, they just want to be soft and gay with who they love.

Anne, Flint, & Compulsory Heterosexuality (Not Bi Erasure)

In Black Sails, we are shown the story of a gay person who has a consistent sexual relationship with someone of the opposite sex, but is running from internal truths about themselves in some ways in the process. That person is Anne.

Struggling with compulsory heterosexuality is explicitly Anne Bonny’s prime storyline in the show and that is not up for debate (and I’ve rarely seen people disagree); but I argue that it is also part of James’ storyline, and he is paralleled significantly with Anne to make that clear. It’s just overall more subtle because it’s not the prime focus of James’ story the way it is for Anne, because James’ realizations happened largely in the past and we’re seeing the aftermath of it. The parallels are there, and I’ll be breaking some of them down.

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From episode one, we are told that Anne has a sexual relationship with Jack…. But later on, she tells Jack that she “can’t be [his] wife,” even though they’ll be partners forever. Why? What changed? The answer is that she’s been with Max and realized that she’s gay. It doesn’t mean Anne didn’t have sex with a man in the past and even enjoy it on some level, but it does mean that she knows now that she was using that sex partially to distract from things about herself that she was doing her best to ignore.

Multiple lines by Max (to Anne) tell us this:

3x03: “When you and I began you did not choose me. Something that lives inside you beyond choice made it so.”

2x01: “But perhaps there is something else underlying it. Something hiding in a place not even you can see. Perhaps… we would do well to bring it into the light.”

Before I continue, let me remind you of something: when writers decide to show viewers something on screen, that is done with intent, especially in a show like Black Sails where not a single moment is wasted. Remember this. What they show us, and what they don’t show us, are both deliberate choices.

So what are we shown about Anne’s sexual relationship with Jack? We get exactly one scene of her having sex with him. We are shown Anne riding Jack in a way where neither party was particularly enthused. Does this mean they definitely never had sex in the past that they both enjoyed on some level? No. But they showed us this one scene on purpose: to emphasize the stark difference when Anne has enjoyable sex with Max, an experience that forever changes her.

So what are we shown about James’ sexual relationship with Miranda? We get exactly one scene of him having sex with her. It is the most depressing sex scene of all time, James is just lying there to try to be helpful for her to chase her own pleasure, and he doesn’t even touch her. Does this mean they never had sex in the past that they both enjoyed, especially back during their affair in London? No. But we are never shown any of that. We never see them have sex in London before James’ relationship with Thomas; we never see them having good sex with each other after it all goes to hell. And that is a deliberate choice.

Why? Because all of the above info about Anne and her compulsory heterosexuality journey also applies to James McGraw, and his relationships with Miranda and Thomas.

“They paint the world full of shadows... and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it.”

The realizations James came to about his sexuality (just like Anne did) inform much of his tangled story with the Hamiltons, and much of the tragedy of Miranda and James’ situation after the loss of Thomas. We are shown the way James and Miranda are no longer perfectly aligned after that loss, and grief is undeniably a part of it… but it goes beyond that. It’s more complicated than that. 

That sad sex scene is not solely about grief; remember, that scene takes place ten years after they lose Thomas. It takes place during a time where Miranda is already thinking about and will soon actively try to tell James that they need to move on, without understanding why the loss of Thomas affects him in a profoundly different way than it affects her. I am not minimizing her loss or her grief whatsoever; but it is undeniably more complicated for James, and it’s why he can’t move on.

In episode 1x07:

James: “Have you no memory of how we got here? What they took from us?”

Miranda: “What does it matter now? What does it matter? What does it matter what happened then if we have no life now?”

James is, of course, appalled by this. I’ll talk about why momentarily.

The next time James is in Nassau (2x03), he goes to see Miranda and tries to apologize that night, but she’s otherwise engaged. So he stands outside of her window looking in, surrounded by darkness, while she’s playing the clavichord with children in the light. It is symbolically the domestic version of a heterosexual ideal. He is “othered” by the camera angles / framing, and the dark / light aspects. James is relegated to being an outsider literally because as Flint he’s a pirate, but metaphorically because he’s gay; the reason we as viewers are given that scene is to underscore that he feels he has no place in that display.

Ultimately, James is misaligned with Miranda after the loss of Thomas (shown in both the sad sex scene and arguments) in a way that goes beyond grief. The implication is that things cannot ever be the same for him again since the loss of “his truest love” and the truths he learned about himself.

If James and Miranda were simply at odds with one another because of grief, it would be far less of a “tragedy” in some ways. But James cannot heal the way Miranda slowly finds the way to over ten years, because Thomas signifies things for James that Miranda cannot relate to. In London, when Thomas is taken from them, Miranda even yells to James, “He is my husband!” Her grief and rage are shown as equal to James at the start and have extreme validity; the two of them are partners in the plan to kill Alfred Hamilton for revenge; but then she is able to somewhat move on, whereas James is not.

Why? Because, for James, Thomas was not just his (truest) love; Thomas was the awakening of his fullest self as a gay man.

In the same way that Anne can’t be Jack’s “wife” after she’s been with Max and realizes she’s gay, James cannot content himself with fulfilling the role of Miranda’s “husband” after he’s been with Thomas and realizes he’s gay. Neither of these facts minimize Anne’s love and devotion to Jack, or James’ love and devotion to Miranda; they are undeniably two sets of partners. But Anne and James are forever altered by their experiences with same sex lovers, and the truths about themselves that were brought into the light as a result.

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Another part of the tragedy of James and Miranda is what happens right when we see Miranda grasp the significance of all of the above. Whether or not she grasped it before in the past, we are shown it only once on screen, and that’s in Charlestown. 

Peter Ashe says this in 2x09:

“You will tell them about the affair with Thomas. You will tell them how it ended. You will explain to them what it drove you to do. You will reveal everything. And when you do, Captain Flint will be unmasked, the monster slain. And in his place will stand before all the world a flawed man, a man that England can relate to and offer its forgiveness.”

This is James’ worst nightmare; we know as such from what he told Miranda back in 1x07, and from when he killed Gates. And yet, here and now in 2x09, he is exhausted from pushing back against heteronormative society, all he wants is to retire the mantle of Flint born of gay rage, and he actually contemplates playing by their rules and giving into their judgements of his sexuality... until Miranda comes to his defense.

In season 1, Miranda didn’t seem to fully understand James’ thoughts on this, but here–in combination with her realizations about Peter Ashe’s betrayals–she finally does. And she’s not having it.

“What forgiveness are you entitled to while you stand back in the shadows pushing James out in front of the world to be laid bear for the sake of the truth? Tell me, sir, when does the truth about your sins come to light?”

And the moment she is yelling in rage on behalf of James, and their combined loss, and how Peter would dare to force James to experience shame about his sexuality again–she is instantly shot for it. A woman who’s yelling on behalf of a gay man? In a patriarchal heteronormative society? It has no place. England makes that clear.

It all further underlines James’ sense of “otherness”... and now he decides to embrace it, even at his own emotional detriment. He will no longer try to fit in or reason with them; he will no longer accept their halfway measures of pardons. He can’t, because in the eyes of England, all that he is as a gay man is abhorrent.

2x10: “Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”

3x05, to the Maroon Queen: “...England takes whatever, whenever, however it wants. Lives. Loves. Labor. Spirits. Homes. It has taken them from me. I imagine that it has taken it from you.”

The Way James Views Miranda

And here is where I simply give you more food for thought–or further “evidence” of James being gay, if you will.

All of Flint’s lines about how he views Miranda are worded very, very deliberately.

Here’s a minor one, from 1x05:

“So you can probably guess it isn't as much fun to tell stories about how your captain makes a home with a nice Puritan woman who shares his love of books.”

There is nothing overtly romantic or sexual about this. It’s said in a one-on-one conversation with Billy, where Flint neither has to make the relationship sound like something it isn’t nor refuse to give any info whatsoever. So he goes with what is the seemingly-mild truth.

But 3x01, convincing the men to forego pardons:

“But what price surrender? To beg forgiveness from a thing that took my woman from me? My friend?”

“My woman” is what Flint says for the benefit of the men… these men who are part of the heteronormative world they all live in, and still value sexual relationships with women above all else. It’s about hegemonic masculinity, remember? (“Objectification of women and sex itself.”) He’s doing his best to speak their language. 

But “my friend” is a secondary line that was not needed for the purposes of this speech, but James could not keep himself from adding it in a quieter tone–because that’s who Miranda was to him. His friend. Not his woman, which drips sexism and sexual undertones. Not his wife. Not even his “love,” which he could’ve used if he wanted to be ambiguous and sneak a Thomas reference in; he said “my woman” to appeal to the men, and then he added “my friend” because in the face of her memory he couldn’t help it.

And lastly, in 3x03, we begin to hear from “ghost Miranda.” 

But what is ghost Miranda? She’s a voice from James’ traumatized mind. Everything she says to him is about truths he already knows and/or things he is hiding from himself. So what “she” says here is a voice from James’ mind; it’s about how James sees her, and subtly elaborates on his sexuality in the process.

“When I first met you, you were so... Unformed. And then I spoke and bade you cast aside your shame, and Captain Flint was born into the world... the part of you that always existed yet never were you willing to allow into the light of day. I was mistress to you when you needed love. I was wife to you when you needed understanding. But first and before all... I was mother. I have known you like no other. So I love you like no other. I will guide you through it, but at its end is where you must leave me. At its end is where you will find the peace that eludes you, and at its end lies the answer you refuse to see.”

This does not diminish Miranda’s importance to James in the least! In fact, it emphasizes it, and it is all part of why he is so ruined over her! But it is also, in the oddest way, an elaboration upon how he isn’t bi: Miranda was his partner in many things, including shared grief and revenge and some semblance of life for ten long years; and she was also was instrumental to his formation of himself as a person (“mother”), and his acceptance of himself as a gay man (“love” and “understanding”). This is how he sees her. Mistress and wife were roles she filled in his life, but above all, she contributed to the birth of Captain Flint–the personification of James’ gay rage.

Of course, the “answer” that ghost Miranda (the depths of James’ brain) alludes to here as well as her later words of “you are not alone” are all about James needing to recognize that Silver is a newfound partner and love for him… but that’s a whole other meta entirely.

Closing Thoughts

Look, did I consult a couple of specific scenes and look up transcripts to put quotes in this? Yes. But have I still only seen the show in its entirety once? Also yes. My point in mentioning this is that, if I did a full rewatch, there might even be more evidence I haven’t mentioned here. This isn’t meant to be comprehensive, but I do feel that it... certainly conveys the gist of the mood.

You may still agree to disagree if you prefer to see James Flint as bi; I’m not here to fight you on it and what queer characters mean to you personally. 

But for me, when surveying all available evidence, the narrative screams that he’s gay. In that sense, my thoughts on this matter are similar to my thoughts on the ending; sure, you can interpret it one way if you look at certain details, but if you take in all the evidence and the big picture as a whole… there’s a specific conclusion to be drawn.

Last thing I’ll say is this: Steinberg himself has said that Flint is gay, which I found out way after watching the show and forming this interpretation. And like... not that if I wanted to hardcore argue he was bi I wouldn’t disregard Steinberg’s words, because in my experience the narrative speaking for itself is always more important than than creators’ words, but... in this instance (as in all Black Sails instances I’ve come across), his words just underscore what the well-crafted narrative is already telling us, because the creators wrote this show with intent. They knew what they were doing.

And thus, I will quote him (from these GIFs) below.

“When we were trying to build the story, we wanted whatever this thing was that made [Flint] feel alienated to be so deeply tied into who he was that there was no way he was every going to dismiss this thing that happened to him. We wanted to make sure we understood what the reality was in England in terms of how homosexuality was perceived. In some ways it was more tolerated, in some ways it was significantly less tolerated. I think in terms of Flint being gay, it’s about the fact that it is a tool that is used politically when convenient to make somebody be a monster… and it isn’t even really about the relationship.”

(If you buy the series on iTunes, you get an “inside” look at every episode, including this one from 2x05.)

EDIT: I had no idea Toby Stephens basically confirmed my thoughts that James' relationship with Thomas was his actualization as a gay man, so excuse me as I lose my mind for a moment:

“I think his relationship to Thomas Hamilton, the initial friendship and then becoming lovers is sort of like the realization of himself. I think he became himself with Thomas Hamilton. His potential was unleashed with Hamilton.”

And just for fun, since I’m here anyway, here’s a piece of a Steinberg quote about Anne from the Fathoms Deep podcast.

“In terms of Rackham and Bonny, I think that was another thing that I assumed for a long time could never go away. That they were essentially, you know, that they were married. You know not legally, but they were functionally married. And then this story happened in Season 2 with Bonny, that I think with like with a gun to my head of things that I’m proud of with the show, probably at the top is this story of this woman coming out and understanding that she’s gay. . . And so when we got to a point where it was like, I think she’s gay? Like I don’t think this is something we want to be wishy-washy about. It required getting over that hump with Rackham of, ‘Well like what am I going to do with this relationship? I don’t want to split them up?’ And I think it became something way more interesting.”

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. I love James Flint and his gay rage, I love you if you read all of this, and I love my friend @sunbardy who dealt with me yelling about this in DMs and then proofread the doc.

Hit me up on Twitter @gaypiracy if you want, where I do most of my Black Sails related yelling. And shitposting. Because I contain multitudes.

Know No Shame, my friends.

[arcticdementor]

I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production  and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

And on.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

[dweemeister]

Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

Almost a quarter of the way through the twenty-first century, globalization has pierced the remotest corners of the planet. The examples academics and politicians cite demonstrating this globalization are almost always economic, but the most profound examples are cultural. Once known only in South Asia, Indian cinema has burst onto a global stage. Its stars and its most popular directors seem larger than life. Reading on some of modern Bollywood’s (Hindi-language cinema) personalities, I find few of their biographies compelling beyond their unquestionable status as South Asian and international celebrities – I won’t name names here because that is for another time. That is partly a result of not watching enough Bollywood films. It is also because I am making unconscious comparisons between those modern actors to actor-director Guru Dutt. Dutt was a tragic romantic – off- and on-screen – to the point where those personas can become indistinguishable.

As an actor, Dutt can be as charming a romantic male lead as anyone, as well as lend a film the dramatic gravitas it needs. As a director, he refined his sweeping visuals and theatrical flairs over time. That artistic development culminated with Pyaasa (1957) and his final directorial effort, Kaagaz Ke Phool (“Paper Flowers” in English). The latter film is the subject of this piece. Both films elevate themselves to a cinematic altitude few movies anywhere, anytime ever accomplish. They are, for lack of a better word, operatic* – in aesthetic, emotion, storytelling, tone. In Kaagaz Ke Phool, Dutt once again lays bare his artistic soul in what will be his final directed work.

An old man enters a film studio’s empty soundstage, climbs onto the rafters, and gazes wistfully at the darkened workspace below. We learn that this is Suresh Sinha (Dutt), a film director whose illustrious past exists only in old film stock. The film is told in flashback, transporting to a time when his marriage to Bina (Veena) is endangered – the parents-in-law disdain his film work as disreputable to their social class – and he is embarking upon an ambitious production of Devdas (a Bengali romance novel that is among the most adapted pieces of Indian literature to film, the stage, and television). He is having difficulty finding someone to play Paro, the female lead. Due to this conflict, Bima has also forbidden their teenage daughter, Pammi (Kumari Naaz), from seeing Suresh. Pammi is sent to a boarding school far from Delhi (where Bima and her parents reside) and further from Mumbai (where Suresh works), without any sufficient explanations of the spousal strife.

One rainy evening, Suresh generously provides his coat to a woman, Shanti (an excellent Waheeda Rehman). The next day, Shanti arrives at the film studio looking to return the coat. Not knowing anything about film production, she accidentally steps in front of the camera while it is rolling – angering the crew who are tiring of yet another production mishap. Later, while viewing the day’s rushes, Suresh casts Shanti as Paro after witnessing her accidental, but remarkable, screen presence. She achieves cinematic stardom; Suresh and Shanti become intimate. When the tabloid gossip eventually reaches Mumbai and Pammi’s boarding school, it leads to the ruin of all.

What did you expect from an operatic film – a happy ending?

Also starring in the film are Johnny Walker (as Suresh’s brother-in-law, “Rocky”) and Minoo Mumtaz (as a veterinarian). Walker and Mumtaz’s roles are vestigial to Kaagaz Ke Phool. Their romantic subplot is rife with the potential for suggestive humor (she is a horse doctor), but the screenplay never justifies their inclusion in the film.

Shot on CinemaScope lens licensed by 20th Century Fox to Dutt’s production company, Kaagaz Ke Phool is Dutt’s only film shot in letterboxed widescreen. From the onset of his directorial career and his close collaboration with cinematographer V.K. Murthy, Dutt exemplifies an awesome command of tonal transition and control. Murthy’s dollying cameras intensify emotion upon approach: anguish, contempt, sober realization. These techniques render these emotions painfully personal, eliminating the necessity of a few lines of dialogue or supplemental motion from the actor. The effect can be uncomfortable to those who have not fully suspended their disbelief in the plot or the songs that are sung at the time. But to the viewers that have accepted that Dutt’s films exist in a reality where songs about infatuation, love, loss, and regret are sung spontaneously (and where revelations are heard in stillness), this is part of the appeal. Dutt and Murthy’s lighting also assists in directing the narrative and setting mood: a lashing rainstorm signaling a chance meeting that seals the protagonists’ fates, the uncharacteristically film noir atmosphere of the soundstage paints moviemaking as unglamorous, and a beam of light during a love melody evokes unspoken attraction. That final example represents the pinnacle of Dutt and Murthy’s teamwork (more on this later).

As brilliant as his films (including this) may be, Dutt suffered during mightily during Kaagaz Ke Phool’s production. In writings about Dutt, one invariably encounters individuals who believe Dutt’s life confirms that suffering leads to great art. Though I think it best to retire that aphorism so as not to romanticize pain, I believe that the reverse is true with Guru Dutt – his later directing career contributed to his personal tribulations. In some ways, that suffering informed his approach to what I consider an informal semiautobiographical trilogy of his films: Mr. & Mrs. ’55 (1955), Pyaasa, and Kaagaz Ke Phool. Dutt directed and starred in each of these films. In each film he plays an artist (a cartoonist, poet, and film director, respectively); with each successive film his character begins with a greater reputation, only to fall further than the last. The three Dutt protagonists encounter hardship that do not discriminate by caste, professional success, or wealth.

For Dutt’s Suresh, he is unable to consummate his love for Shanti because the specters of his failed marriage haunt him still. He never speaks to his de facto ex, but marital disappointment lingers. Why does he bother visiting his stuffy in-laws when he knows they will never change their opinions about him? Abrar Alvi’s (the other films in the aforementioned informal Dutt-directed trilogy, 1962’s Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam) screenplay is silent on the matter. Also factoring into Suresh’s hesitation is his daughter, Pammi. Pammi is young, looks up to both her parents, and cannot fathom a parent being torn from her life. Her reaction to learning about Shanti implies that neither of her parents have ever truly talked to her about their separation. Pammi does not appear to blame herself, but it seems that her parents – intent on protecting their child, perhaps speaking to her not as a soon-to-be young adult – are loath to maturely talk about the other. In a sense, Pammi has never mourned her parents’ marriage as we see her deny the tabloid reports about Suresh’s affair and express anger towards her father when she learns the truth.

When Suresh’s film after Devdas flops, his film career is in tatters. But Shanti’s popularity is ascendant, creating a dynamic reminiscent of A Star is Born. In a faint reference to Devdas, Kaagaz Ke Phool’s final act contains anxieties about falling into lower classes. If Kaagaz Ke Phool is contemporaneous to its release date, one could also interpret this as concerns about falling within India’s caste system (reformist India in the late 1950s was dipping its toes into criminalizing caste discrimination, which remains prevalent). Suresh’s fall is stratospheric and, in his caste-conscious, masculine pride, he rejects Shanti’s overtures to help him rebuild his life and film career. This tragedy deepens because Shanti’s offer is in response to the contractual exploitation she is enduring. We do not see what becomes of Shanti after her last encounter with Suresh, but his final scenes remind me, again, of opera: the male lead summoning the strength to sing (non-diegetically in Suresh’s case) his parting, epitaphic thoughts moments before the curtain lowers.

Suresh’s and Shanti’s respective suffering was preventable. Whether love may have assuaged his self-pity and alcoholism and her professional disputes is debatable, but one suspects it only could have helped.

Composer S.D. Burman (Pyaasa, 1965’s Guide) and lyricist Kaifi Azmi (1970’s Herr Raanjha, 1974’s Garm Hava) compose seven songs for Kaagaz Ke Phool – all of which elevate the dramatics, but none are as poetic as numbers in previous Dutt films. Comments on two of the most effective songs follow; I did not find myself nearly as moved by the others.

“Dekhi Zamane Ki Yaari” (roughly, “I Have Seen How Deeply Friendship Lies”) appears just after the opening credits, as an older Suresh ascends the soundstage’s stairs to look down on his former domain. The song starts with and is later backed by organ (this is an educated guess, as many classic Indian films could benefit with extensive audio restorations as trying to figure out their orchestrations can be difficult) and is sung non-diegetically by Mohammed Rafi (dubbing for Dutt). A beautiful dissolve during this number smooths the transition into the flashback that will frame the entire film. That technique, combined with “Dekhi Zamane Ki Yaari”, prepares the audience for what could be a somber recollection. However, this is only the first half of a bifurcated song. The melodic and thematic ideas of “Dekhi Zamane Ki Yaari” are completed in the film’s final minutes, “Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari” (“They All Fall Apart, One by One”; considered by some as a separate song). Together, the musical and narrative arc of this song/these songs form the film’s soul. For such an important musical number, it may have been ideal to incorporate it more into the film’s score, but now I am being picky.

Just over the one-hour mark, “Waqt Ne Kiya Haseen Sitam” (“Time Has Inflicted Such Sweet Cruelty On Us”; non-diegetically sung by Shanti, dubbed by Geeta Dutt, Guru’s wife) heralds the film’s second act – Suresh and Shanti’s simultaneous realization of their unspoken love, and how they are changed irrevocably for having met each other. Murthy’s floating cameras and that piercing beam of light are revelatory. A double exposure during this sequence shows the two characters walking toward each other as their inhibitions stay in place, a breathtaking mise en scène (the arrangement of a set and placement of actors to empower a narrative/visual idea) foreshadowing the rest of the film.

Dutt’s perfectionist approach to Kaagaz Ke Phool fueled a public perception that the film was an indulgent vanity exercise with a tragic ending no one could stomach viewing. Paralleling Suresh and Shanti’s romantic interest in each other in this film, the Indian tabloids were printing stories claiming that Dutt was intimate with co-star Waheeda Rehman and cheating on Geeta Dutt. These factors – perhaps some more than others (I’m not versed on what Bollywood celebrity culture was like in the 1950s, and Pyaasa’s tragic ending didn’t stop audiences from flocking to that film) – led to Kaagaz Ke Phool’s bombing at the box office. Blowing an unfixable financial hole into his production company, Guru Dutt, a man who, “couldn’t digest failure,” never directed another film. Like the character he portrays here, Dutt became an alcoholic and succumbed to depression in the wake of this film’s release. Having dedicated himself entirely to his films, he interpreted any professional failure as a personal failure.

Kaagaz Ke Phool haunts from its opening seconds. Beyond his home country, Dutt would not live to see his final directorial effort become a landmark Bollywood film and his international reputation growing still as cinematic globalization marches forth. Dutt’s most visually refined films, including Kaagaz Ke Phool, are films of subtraction. The cinematography and music make less movement and dialogue preferable. Kaagaz Ke Phool is a film defined about actions that are not taken and scenes that are never shown. The result is not narrative emptiness, but a receptacle of Dutt’s empathy and regrets. Exploring these once-discarded, partially biographic ideas is not for faint hearts.

My rating: 9/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

* I use this adjective not to reference operatic music, but as an intangible feeling that courses over me when watching a film. Examples of what I would consider to be operatic cinema include: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000, Taiwan); Greed (1924); The Red Shoes (1948); and The Wind (1928). Some level of melodrama and emotional unpackaging is necessary, but the film need not be large in scope or have musical elements for me to consider it “operatic”.

[dallas-owns-my-ass]

Bad For My Rep.

     Paring: Dallas Winston x Singer! Reader

     Summary: Reader gets forced to sing in a choir as a form of community service.

     Warnings: idk cursing, smoking, vandalizing, prison?

     Tag List: @staygoldponebone​ @botanicaldarling​ @rosecoloureddudez​ @shepards-love​

If you wanted to be added just let me know :)

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     I shook the spray paint can again and held down the button, watching the black line grow in the direction that I moved my hand. I loved everything about spray paint. The sound it makes when you spray or shake it. The variety of colors. The whole style of street art in general.  It was something we had to ourselves, us kids in the street. I finished it off, taking a step back and just looking at it. West Side motherfuckaaa. I thought to myself as I chuckled. 

     “How you gonna like laughing about that in prison?” 

     I whipped my head around to see a cop. A very unamused cop. Fuck. I scanned my surroundings, debating running or not. His car blocked one of the exits and his partner’s in the other. My chances were slim to nonexistent, so being logical for once, I decided to hold my ground. Better to go out like a man right? 

     “You know vandalizing’s a crime? No you probably didn’t. What would some wasted thug know about anything?” he laughed, finding himself amusing. I smirked as I responded.

     “If that’s what you think”

     “C’mon we’re taking your ass right back to jail, and you can explain to a judge why you were out at 3 am spraying gang signs on a public structure.” He pushed me against the wall, handcuffing me. Damn. I really was about to go back to jail. I just got out too. Dally’s gonna kill me. 

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     I was not looking forward to that phone call. But I had to do it if I wanted a chance of getting out of here. I reluctantly picked up the phone and dialed his number. After a couple of seconds, he picked up.

     “Hello?” his voice was deep and raspy. He probably just woke up. 

     “Hey baby”

     “Y/N? What’s wrong?”     

    “Man, something doesn’t always have to be wrong for me to call my boyfriend”

    “Doll, it’s three in the morning... What happened?”

    “Y’know, it’s not really a big deal or anything but.... I may or may not have got arrested again. And I kinda need you to come down here and see if you can bail me out or something.” He let out a long sigh.

    “Babe, how many times have I told you to be more careful?” He was angry. Not that I blamed him though. I would be angry too. I did get angry when he got arrested for some stupid shit. It was my own fault for being careless. 

    “Were you drinking again? Uhh Y/N, how could you be so careless? Do you know what could’ve happened to you if you happened to stumble across the wrong kinda guy? Do you know what happens to pretty, intoxicated, young girls at night on the streets Y/N!” 

     “Yes...” I responded my voice trailing off sheepishly. I hoped it wasn’t evident in my tone that I was hurt. I hated when he yelled at me. And I hated that he was always right. He let out a long sigh.

     “Of course you do. I’m sorry for yellin’ at you doll. It’s just that I can’t help worrying for you. You’re all I got. Besides, if anyone dared to mess with you, you’d kick their ass. You’re one tough broad.” I could feel the smirk on his face as he said that. “I’ll be down at the station in a couple of minutes baby.” He said as he hung up.

     He groaned as he approached the cell where I was being held. That couldn’t be good. 

     “Babe, they said there ain’t no bail this time” Shit. I was either going to jail for a couple more months or getting a shitload of community service hours. Hopefully the latter. 

     “Eeh, don’t worry about it Dal”

     “I’ll just get a few months, that’s all.”

     “Yeah but those months gonna feel like forever without you there.”

     “I’ll be out before you know it. You should go get some sleep baby, it’s late. Or should I say early now?” I leaned in to kiss him through the cell bars. We only got a quick peck before the police officer yelled at us. 

     “Fuck him.” Dally mumbled before leaning in again. The officer basically dragged him out of there after that. I smiled. Classic Dally. 

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     There I was, sitting in my defendant chair, at my trial. Fun times. Dally, Johnny, and Sodapop came. Dally, because he had to, Johnny because he’s my best friend, and Sodapop simply because he had nothing better to do. 

     “Due to past offenses and lack of change in behavior from past prison sentences, I sentence Ms Y/L/N to 45 hours of community service, which can be completed in the span of 35 days at the local church.” 

     “With umm, all due respect your honor, can I just go to jail instead. Y’know sweeping floors and shit just ain’t really my thing.” I looked at Dally. He was smirking, trying to suppress a laugh or something. I sent a nasty glare his way.

     “That type of profanity will not be tolerated in this courtroom Ms. Y/L/N, don’t make me tell you again. And I believe there is a choir that is in need of young members.” 

     “A choir?” I questioned, unimpressed. “You want me to go sing to God for spray painting some bridge? That just messed up man” Soda started laughing, apparently finding this whole situation amusing. “I ain’t takin’ yall to my court shit no more”

     I walked out of the courtroom, Dally trailing along behind me. To say I was pissed was an understatement. How was she gonna make me go sing at some church and say that it’s community service. I mean, yeah I had a good voice, but you just don’t go walking around singing here, it was a quick way to get your ass kicked. Besides, I was supposed to be some hardened criminal or something. You ever see some hardened criminal dancing around on some stage. No. And you can bet your ass you won’t. That’s just how things work around here, and some people aren’t ever going to understand that.

     “C’mon babe, it’s not that bad” he grabbed my arm, pulling me close to him. “I mean at least you’re not locked up somewhere, ‘cause we can still do stuff you know?” he winked. Of course that’s what he thought of, but I couldn’t help but smile. Dallas just had that effect on people. He could make ‘em laugh if he knew them real well. I leaned in for a kiss.

     “Yeah I guess it ain’t so bad.”

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     “I gotta wear this?” I almost yelled, holding up the choir robe. 

     “Why yes dear, it’s mandatory for all performances. Lucky for you, this is only a practice.” the nun replied. I was going to have to change that.

     The nun lead me into the music room. The room got silent the moment I entered. They all recognized me, either from the paper, news, or they saw me in the midst of doing something illegal. This would be the last place they all expected me to show up. But here I was. They soon all resumed what they were doing, going back to their chatter and practicing riffs and other stuff among those activities. A young woman approached me. She was a little taller than me, skinny with straight red hair and thick glasses. She looked familiar somehow.

     “Bass, alto, or soprano?” she asked. “I don’t sing.” 

     “Alto.” she stated. She clapped her hands twice. All the students looked up, and got into their places without even mumbling another word. These guys must be strict. Here’s the little problem with that. I don’t follow rules very well. I never have, and I’ll never care to learn. She dragged me over and placed me in the middle section, in the front. Great, I thought. Now she’s gonna be watching every little thing I do. She sang out “la la la la la la la” and everyone else repeated it back to her. Yeah I wasn’t really feeling that so I didn’t. She repeated the exercise for the third time, and after seeing me not doing it, she pointed at me and called me to the front, right next to her. Here we go again. “la la la la la la la”. I once again ignored her attempt to make me sing. I wasn’t going to do it. Sorry man, it’s bad for my rep. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t want to sing, I loved to. It’s just that I didn’t want to sing in front of a group of people just for them to laugh at me. She closed her hand, silencing everyone else.

     “La la la la la la” I just stared at her and shook my head nonchalantly. She was persistent for she repeated it again. Realizing she wasn’t going to stop until I did, I sung it back quietly and purposely off-key. She shook her head and did it again. This time I sung it right, but still quietly. She nodded her head and smiled, as she made the rest of the choir resume. We continued this and practiced some other classic gospel songs for the rest of the time. 4:30, finally. I went to leave, following all the other students out, but her voice rang out.

     “Y/L/N, stay after.” Great. Just what I needed. 

     “Why weren’t you singing?”

     “I was” I corrected.

     “Doing the bare minimum required is not singing. I know that the only reason you are here is to fulfill your service hours and then go back to being a menace to society after but, while you are here you will not be a burden to my choir. And yes you may have been mumbling the words to the songs incorrectly, but unless you are adding something to the group, you are a burden. So you may want to consider contributing something to this group. Is that understood?”

     “Yeah I guess. I just don’t know what you think I can ‘contribute to this group’. I ain’t got no talent or nothing. All’s I got is drugs and street smarts man.”

     “As I heard before, you have a nice voice, which can be contributed by singing the lead to out next song, don’t you think?” 

     “No I don’t think so. If you think I’m gonna get up and sing by myself in front of God knows who, you’re crazy.”

     “Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to sing while you’re here, so you might as well try.” she urged, grabbing sheet music and handing it to me. She sat down at the piano. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with ‘Oh Happy Day’?” I nodded in response. “So sing it” she said as she started playing the rhythm on the piano. 

     “Oh happy day” I almost mumbled. She stopped playing.

     “Sing out, nobody’s here to judge you” she started playing from the beginning again. 

     ‘Oh happy day.” I repeated, this time a little louder and clearer. “C’mon you aint gonna scare no one.”

     “Oh happy day” I sung out loudly, my voice vibrating off the walls of the tiny room. “Now you got it.”

----------------------------------------

     I was sitting on the couch, my head on Dally’s shoulder, watching Mickey Mouse with the bois. 

     “So, Y/N, you gonna be singin’ in the choir this Sunday huh?” Soda asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Mhmm” I responded curtly, not wanting anyone else in the gang to know about it.  

     “Blimey Y/L/N, I didn’t know you were in a choir.” Two-Bit explained. “You should’ve told us Y/N, we would’ve came if it meant so much to you.”

     “Lay off it Two-Bit, it’s for community service.” I said, rolling my eyes, lighting a cigarette. That was the last thing I wanted, for all of them to show up to see me mumbling words, wearing some cloak, looking like a complete idiot. 

     “Geez Y/N, it’s not like I asked for your first born child. What’s got you so mad anyways?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious. What part of forced to sing in a choir wasn’t he getting. I threw the pillow next to me at him lightly. Dally chuckled. 

     “Don’t get so worked up about it doll” he provoked, smirking. “Shut up Dal... What’s everyone gonna think when they see me up there, in some crusty robe. I’m supposed to be tough or something, and singing doesn’t really help with that much”

     “Oh c’mon babe, you’re doing community service hours because you’ve been to jail too many times or something like that. Everyone in there’s already scared of you.” I had to at least let a tiny smirk on my face. He was right. He always was.  “I know” he said smugly. 

     “Huh?” I questioned. “You said all that out loud doll.” Oops. “Fuck you.” I said, sticking my tongue out. 

---------------------------------------

     It was the big day. Fun right? Yeah no. The room was almost full with people and we were about to go on. I didn’t even know people still went to church. Nope. There was no way I was doing this. There were way too many people for my liking. I would just go back to court, and take whatever excessive penalty they gave me. I may go to jail, but at least I’d have my dignity. I was just about to walk out when the teacher came up to me. 

     “You’re really about to leave right now?” she raised her eyebrow. I nodded sarcastically in response. “So all that hard work, all that time and effort, not only put in by you, but by the rest of the choir, you’re just going to throw it away? If you leave right now, not only are you screwing yourself over, but the rest of the choir, and the people who were expecting us to sing today.”

     “You can find someone better to sing my part.” I remarked.

     “Oh, so you’re scared? You’re scared they’re not going to like your voice. You’re scared you’re going to ruin your reputation. You’re scared to show them that you’re exceptionally talented. Now let me tell you something. I don’t care who’s out there today. I don’t care who’s watching or judging us. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to sing, no matter what. Because I’m not going to let you screw over this whole choir, and more importantly, I’m not going to let you screw up your chance to have a perfectly good opportunity to do something that you may love. So today, you’re going to get up on that stage and you’re going to sing for whoever the hell may be listening. And you’re going to do it well. You owe it to us. After that I don’t give a crap what you do. You can leave and go to jail time instead. Just not today.” she demanded, leading us all out onto the stage. 

     I took my usual spot in the back, but she pulled me to the front. She gave us a 4 beat count off and the piano started. I scanned the audience. Right in the front row was the gang. Shit. I panicked. They couldn’t know about this. I was already nervous to begin with. There was no more time to worry. The teacher pointed at me, cuing me to start. I sang the lyrics quietly, and not that well. I finished the first verse.

     “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.” She said. “Come here.” she pointed next to her in the very front. Feeling quite embarrassed I took my hands and shoved them in my pockets, staring at the floor. “You take your cues from me.”

     “la la la la la la la.” We repeated it back to her. She pointed at me. “You.”

     “la la la la la la la.” I repeated the tune. “Sing it”

     “Oh happy day.” I sung, this time loud and clearly. You could feel the tone in the room shift. “Oh happy day” people looked up in shock, maybe because I was singing it, or maybe because we sounded really good. “When Jesus washed. When Jesus washed. When, my Jesus washed, he washed my sins away.” I threw a couple riffs in there to make it fancy. 

     “la la la la la la la.” we sung this warm up again a few times. “Let’s party.” the teacher said. “He taught me how” we sang in harmony, as we clapped on the second and fourth beat. “Oh he taught me how” I walked toward the front of the stage even more, the simple rhythm moving me. “To wash, to wash” I repeated from the background melody. “And live rejoicing. Yes he did. Oh yeah. Every, everyday.” I continued. The melody went down a key. “Oh, oh, happy day. Oh happy day yeah. When Jesus washed. When my Jesus washed. When Jesus washed.” I went into my falsetto. I finally gained the courage to look over at the gang. Soda’s jaw dropped, and Dally just sat there with a look in his eyes that I just couldn’t place, but they all definitely looked surprised. The crowd even started clapping, midst performance. I couldn’t help but smile. “My sins away. Oh you know I’m talkin’ bout happy days. Oh yeah. Sing it. Sing it. Sing it. Yeah. C’mon. Oh happy day.” We all finished, arms up in the shape of a v. The crowd erupted in applause, standing up too. Wow. I never expected such a positive reaction. We all took our bows and headed off back stage. 

     I changed back into my greaser attire, and headed out in search of the gang. I found them quick, easily spotting Darry. The second I reached them they all swarmed on top of me. Steve pulled me under his arm, pretending to hit me on the head with his fist. 

     “Damn, Y/N, you never told us you could sing like that” Darry marveled. “Any other things you’ve been keeping from us, like a secret son or somethin’” Two-Bit joked. They all continued like this for a while, until Dally interrupted. 

     “Alright, alright. Damn I can’t even talk to my own girl with all you bums around.” but even he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah c’mon guys, let Y/N go talk to her boyfriendddd.” Soda started. “ooooooooh” they all joined in. “Oh shut up.” I said playfully, shooing them off with my hand. Dally walked me out to his car, his arm slung over my shoulder. He opened and closed my car door and then went around to get in. 

     “Look man, you know I’m not good at this type of shit but, Goddamn Y/N. You never told me you had a voice like that. Man I ain’t exaggerating when I say that you have the most beautiful voice I ever heard. Shit, I never knew my babygirl was so talented.” he took his eyes off the road to give me a quick kiss. I was smiling so much by then. The car swerved, almost hitting a tree. 

     “Dally!” I almost screamed while laughing. “What baby, it’s only a tree.” he was laughing too.  

     “I guess community service ain’t so bad after all.”

More Like This

[lavenderek]

fwiw i’m an A*3 volunteer - i do tag wrangling, actually - and i really do need to emphasise the fact that we are VOLUNTEERS, and there’s really nothing we can do when it comes to bigger issues re: the core of how the site runs and the values people feel it holds.

what i am really tired of is people assuming things about me because i’m a volunteer. people can be so ridiculously vitriolic - like that anon you got who was immediately at you like ‘SO YOU’RE FINE WITH CHILD ABUSE?’ is a perfect example of what i mean. no, i’m not, but i honestly do appreciate a rare space online that is *relatively* unmoderated - which is NOT to say it isn’t completely unmoderated. like you said, there are so many cultural aspects to even simple tags, and as a tag wrangler, you’re ‘trained’ on that. that’s just tag wrangling - i’m sure higher up volunteer positions also take the time and care to educate volunteers correctly on how to manage their roles.

again, though, there is fundamentally very little us volunteers can do for parts people might disagree with. we come from all walks of life and there are so many roles and we all only have so much time. fact is, the website is the way it and it’s unlikely to change beyond perhaps adding more ‘social media’ type functions, like blocking people. if you feel that there is content that is inappropriate or commenters that are inappropriate or whatever, you can report it directly to the people running the website (which i’ve personally done before for an extreme underage fic about a real life - albeit of-age - person), and i obviously didn’t check back to see if it had been removed, but i assume it was dealt with because i genuinely do have faith in the moderators. anyway, just some insight as someone who works with the site.

hey! thanks for the info actually this is really interesting. sorry about the delayed response, i saved it as a draft to come back to it later and then i got busy at work and forgot

while you're here, you mind if i ask you some questions? feel free not to answer, you're not obligated

i separated it into sections because i’m what? longwinded and easily confused

1. can this happen (has questions for you in it)

it's my understanding that the big uproar vis a vis CP fic on a*3 is more that a*3 is inadvertently creating a space where p*dophiles feel safe and can establish a following, in turn allowing them to normalize what they're doing and gain access to potential victims.

tldr, it's less "this is inappropriate" and more "the person who made this is dangerous." like, if the person who wrote that nasty fic you reported had a whole profile full of similar content and was gaining a following from it, that would be concerning.

is the overall effect a user has something that you all take into account when you're going through content on the site, or are you instructed to take the specific piece of content at face value?

and, do you think that's something it's possible to address by moderators? regardless of whether or not it’ll actually happen, do you think that is possible on this system?

and, even more optional than the other questions, if that was possible, what do you think that would look like? 

2. what is the process like on your end (has questions for you in it)

just for my own curiosity, how much leeway do you as a volunteer have over whether a fic should be reported? 

is it up to your own judgment or is there like a rubric or something? 

and what happens if the moderators decide that yeah, this fic can't be up anymore, do they remove the fic or kill the user's profile or what?

what happens if you report something, and the moderators decide it’s fine? does that reflect on you in their eyes? 

how often do you report fic? 

3. clarification of motive (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

like i hear you that you, personally, Anon J. Wranglerton, don't have control over the site itself. the topic of CP and abuse is touchy and wigs people out because it sort of self perpetuates.

it's like that anecdote that went viral a few years ago where a bartender explained that allowing one polite n*zi into the bar leads very quickly into lots of n*zis being in the bar. people want the n*zis removed from the bar. 

i'm sorry people accuse you of being an abuse apologist because of that, i think the idea that people wouldn't really see abuse as a concern is like, actually horrifying to them lmao and i can't necessarily blame them for that in and of itself

4. if i see where they’re coming from then what’s my problem (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i guess i don't share that reaction because disgusting content online isn't anything new for me. i accidentally came across it all the time when i was a kid going online. i nearly fell victim to an actual predator when i was 12 or 13. thankfully, once he asked me for more personal information i was able to get scared and see some red flags. (or if he wasn’t a predator then i should probably go and find my chat room boyfriend Oukami who explained “yiffing” to me and told me to send him pictures of myself so he could make me a wolf fursona)

from my perspective, the a*3 debate looks like this: predators are a concept that is deeply embedded in every corner of the internet, and very suddenly, people are very up in arms about a very specific website having predators on it. it’s like if all of a sudden people were like, “there are customers at Target who yell at the employees. if you still shop at Target, unfollow me.” 

like, yeah, you’re right, and that’s bad, but why Target specifically, and why now, you know? 

i think predators should be made to feel extremely unsafe in fandom spaces lmao, but i also think that’s something that can only be tackled socially. playing whack-a-mole with predators is a tale as old as time.

5. online predators (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

this is just me talking out of my ass, but my theory is that a huge component in kids today getting caught up by predators online is that the concept of anonymity and fear of strangers online has some holes in it on here.

first of all, people just a couple years younger than i am grew up on social media. that was the entire online landscape ever since myspace.

influencers use their real names and faces, and they have millions of followers and are treated like celebrities. a lot of these social networks make it extremely difficult to hide your identity at all. you sign in to youtube with your google account, which is linked to your phone and all your other accounts. instagram, twitter, facebook, and tumblr can all be connected, and a few of those apps encourage it and will interrupt you posting to be like “do you want to also put this on twitter, Firstname Lastname?” no, janet, i’m good. thank you though

this lends a certain amount of freedom to predators, because there is nothing stopping them from assessing somebody’s vulnerability and reaching out to them. 

6. online predators in fandom spaces specifically (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think the fandom space cultivated on tumblr has actively contributed to that. 

look at all these blogs, they’ve got “about me” descriptions with their name, their age, a blurb about their interests, their gender identity, their romantic/sexual preferences, sometimes their fuckin myers-briggs designation. this is all expected behavior on tumblr. 

it starts as a sort of “this is my blog, here’s what i’m about,” and is compounded by like, “NTs can reblog this post but don’t say anything stupid,” or “minors DNI, how old are you,” like, you have to kind of verify that you’re “allowed,” in a sense, to participate in some conversations or interact with some posts. 

i think there’s merit in both of those things, blogs are for self expression and for interacting with likeminded users; and i don’t think it’s “gatekeeping” to stop straighties from clowning on your post about queer issues. 

but this has inadvertently created a sort of entitlement to private information. it also creates this false idea that because you and i have x and y in common, we can interact comfortably. 

it’s crucial to remember that predators aren’t all scary white men who want to visit you at home. some of them are cool 20-somethings who just happen to be normalizing sexual content with children in it. and they genuinely don’t see what they’re doing as wrong. if they’re already your friend, and you see them saying shit about how they’re not hurting anybody, it’s just pretend, it’s just a kink, then you’re probably going to sympathize with them. 

this isn’t to say, “stupid kids, they’re bringing this on themselves by oversharing to the wrong people,” because it’s neither kids’ fault nor unique to children. this kind of oversharing is taking place with all ages and kinds of people on tumblr. 

this is to say, this is what this particular subculture has caused: healthy boundaries are kind of bulldozed to make room for a kind of disorganized sense of community and morality.

7. back to CP on a*3 (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think this kind of “CP is disgusting and you’re disgusting for looking at it” shit is dangerous. 

things this is NOT because of: 

CP deserves a place online

It’s A Slippery Slope, What Will They Ban Next

um, kinkshaming

there is no point in even trying to get predators off a*3

i just think it’s completely unhelpful. it’s literally a waste of their time. they’re wasting their time and hurting themselves and others in the process. it’s lacking in nuance and perspective. 

what we should be saying is “CP is a red flag. CP tells you something about the person posting it.” 

we shouldn’t be asking “are you okay with child abuse,” we should be asking, “what does this content say about the person posting it? are they unsafe to have around? if i realize too late that they’re unsafe, who can i turn to?” those are the kinds of questions we should be asking if our goal really is to protect people.

what the collection of block lists of supposed abuse apologists says is this: “you have to choose between not having to police online behavior, and proving your morals to me, a complete fucking stranger. if your morals are lacking, you’re out, we don’t speak to you anymore, and we tell everyone who will listen that you are a bad person.” 

not to delegitimize their concerns, but it’s fully just mccarthyism. like... that’s what mccarthyism was like. the fact that mccarthyism was bad isn’t even the point, it’s important to recall that mccarthyism did not work. it stopped happening for myriad reasons, one of which was that it was hurting people and wasting resources and doing absolutely nothing else. 

i obviously don’t want to be labeled “anti-american pinko scum” and fired from my job and disallowed from my neighbor’s house. who would? they’re not actually weeding out anybody dangerous, they’re just rounding people up who are just as angry as they are or who are scared of them lmfao. 

ever since that shitty post of mine went viral (which - “viral,” i guarantee it isn’t viral, i stopped looking at it literally that night) i’ve been terrified that one of these days i’m gonna like, comment on something and have the OP be like “wait a minute, you’re that bitch who made fun of some anti-a*3 people, unfollow me” lmfao. like, that’s what this rhetoric is accomplishing. 

i’m not boohooing, i deserved a slap on the wrist for making rude comments. i’m just telling you the extent of the results they’re getting. they made me feel sad. so at least there’s that. 

8. anti-a*3 people (has questions for anyone in it)

“fine, so we’re not trying to evangelize for not liking CP. so what? we don’t want people who like CP around. supporting that stuff is disgusting. we are blocking them for our own safety and don’t appreciate the tone police coming in and telling us it’s no big deal.” - an anti a*3 person, probably

yeah i mean, i get that. if i was really upset about something important and somebody told me “you’re right, but shut up about it,” i would also be pissed. 

my question, though, is this: is the underage tag on a*3 the limit we want to place on our activism against predators online? at minimum, is yelling at and blocking people about it on tumblr making us feel safer?

and also: how are we going to define the things we are trying to get rid of? what is underage? how do we account for differences in culture? how do we account for nuance when we make broad judgments? 

and also: who do we really hold responsible for this? who do we think is at fault and what do we want them to do?

i feel like we could all benefit from some perspective here.

9. back to you (has questions for you in it)

so like, is it fun? how’d you get the position? how long do you work typically?

do you talk directly with higher-ups or whatever? do you have coworkers?

do you have to read through lots of fic yourself or does stuff get reported to you and then you look at it? 

what other stuff do you report content for, aside from abusive content? like i read a post saying people shouldn’t be advertising their paypal or whatever on their a*3, do you nip stuff like that in the bud or is that something else? 

what if it’s just mistagged, presumably by human error not by a legitimate abuse of the system, what do you do? do you tag it for them or do you reach out to them and tell them to fix it or what?

who decided on the color scheme? can there be a skin that’s orange and avocado green? can you pass that on for whoever does the colors? i think i’d spend more time on any particular website if the color scheme was a nice, desaturated orange and avocado green.

nice

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Hurt, pt.10 (E.D.)

Summary: Ethan and Y/N meet again, most of their secrets out in the open.

Warnings: ANGST, slight fluff, swearing, talk of depression

Word Count: 2500

Hurt - Masterlist

Memories work in different ways. Some memories feel warm and secure, wrapping you into the fuzzy feeling they evoke like a security blanket. Other times, memories are like a gateway to hell. They lead you down a dark, narrow path with certainty of doom. It's a fine line to walk between good memories and bad ones. One moment you feel happy, in the next the world is crashing around you.

Y/N had felt just that as she stepped foot in her old house, the one she had been staring at for far too long now. She didn't know if she was scared to return because she could still have feelings for Ethan, or because she'd go inside and find that she had become indifferent to it all.

One moment she felt the security blanket...

''You're going to break you back! Ethan!“ She yelped as he lifted her in his arms despite her protests, wanting to do things right from the start.

''I don't know where you come from, but here in New Jersey, it's custom to carry thy wife over the threshold!“

In the next moment it was pain...

''Don't...Damn it!“ Ethan growled out, holding back more than he thought is possible. He's been less than in control of his emotions as of late and he never wanted to lose control with Y/N. But in this moment where he had tried to be honest with her, to ask for her help, for her love, to be there for him and to watch her randomly pack a few of her things in a bag with intent of leaving him before he had a chance to say anything to explain his earlier words? In this moment he had lost himself completely. There was no more Ethna to hold onto.

''You told me to be honest with you!“ Ethan kicked the bag she was packing, hoping it gets her attention. And it did. But the look she shot him was clear as day – it was a look of hate, not sympathy or love. He had lost her. He knew that.

''DON'T THROW THAT BACK IN MY FACE!“ She didn't hold herself back anymore either. She was dancing on a line between madness and sanity, one she found hard to balance. She told him that when they first began dating because she always believed trust would breed solid ground to build a relationship on. She didn't want that to be what makes them break.

''You being in love with someone else? I'm supposed to thank you for telling me that? For not fucking her yet? Want me to applaud you for it? Because I won't! You don't catch feelings overnight, Ethan! Had you told me you've been attracted to someone earlier, when it started, we could have worked something out! Love?! I can't work with that! I can't stop you from loving her, but I won't sit around and watch my marriage burn when it had ended the day you decided I wasn't worth it anymore. You made the choice to hire her. You knew you'd spend half your time with her. Had you cared, you wouldn't have let it get far.“

She could still hear the ghosts of their past – romantic gestures, giggles, pranks, heart to hearts, but she could also hear the fights, the accusations thrown in their last one, the malicious intent behind every word she had spoken.

Sighing, she pushed through the heartache and undeniable regret. Walking the halls, she finally found what she's been looking for – their bedroom. A part of her wanted to remember all the softness, all the kisses and promises made, but a bigger part of her wondered how many times had he tried to fuck Bianca where she used to lay. It's the part of her she's not too proud of, but a part that's ruthlessly honest with her.

Just because he never truly got to that point with Bianca, it had hurt to know that there was a part of him – a deep, dark part of Ethan that didn't love or care for her as much as she thought he did. A part of him could imagine a life without her and before they separated, Y/N never thought she could survive without him. So much of her was comprised of all their moments spent together – the good and the bad – and she didn't want to erase any of them...until that day.

Opening the drawers, Y/N moved aside Ethan's socks, nearly grunting when she saw he had started folding them all wrong like he used to do when they just got married. It took her four months to teach him how to properly fold his clothes and to see he had reverted to his old habits unnerved her. It's a silly thing to be angry about because who gets mad about how socks are folded? But she was angry, not necessarily just about the socks, but the whole situation she found herself in.

Finally finding what she came here for, she closed her hand around the small, black box. Sitting back to rest, she drew in a deep, heavy breath. She had already started having trouble moving and breathing and she was only four months along, her stomach visible just enough to tell she's pregnant, but not enough to say she's as big as she knows she'll get. She was happy not to have the morning sickness issue, but the size? She wasn't happy about getting so big so soon.

Staring at the little black box, she debated whether to open it. It wouldn't do her any good for she already knew what was inside. None of this would do her any good, but she felt the need to do this – to see it herself. It's that nagging feeling you get in the back of your mind that won't leave you alone until you humor it, so she did.

Shaking her head, she opened the box, gasping despite knowing she'd find just that – their wedding band – his and hers – the same one she had thrown in his face as she walked out of their house. He kept them both, but that's not what got her – it's the inscription he had engraved as a surprise – Infinity times infinity, that faced her directly.

''It's just in case one of us gets in a horrible accident and the tattoos are scraped off our skin.“ Ethan shrugged as if his reasoning is the most normal thing in the world and the weird part of it all is that Y/N simply nodded, chuckling, because that's exactly the kind of thing she'd expect him to do, to say, to think – and she absolutely loved him for it.

Placing a shaky hand over her mouth, she felt the tears pricking at her eyes. It's quite clear she can't say she's indifferent to it all anymore, but her other fear had turned out to be true – she still felt something, everything for him.

All her friends and family keep telling her to forget, to let him go. How? It's all part of her. She can't let go of the pain without losing something sacred. The good memories keep her going and the bad ones make her want to curl under the duvet and never come out again, but they are locked tight together like two sides of the same coin.

How to let go of him when she can’t say for sure she wants to?

Y/N didn't know what to say. In fact, she didn't come to see him to say anything at all. She just needed to see him – like she would lose her mind if she didn't. So she came. And she stood there, shaking like a leaf, staring at her husband...ex-husband...or not...she didn't know anymore.

And he stared right back.

Noticing his lips move in an effort to speak, Y/N had rushed toward him. She didn't know why and she didn't want to do it at all, it was a surprise for her too – instinct, something beyond her control, like her heartbeat.

Without control, she threw her arms around him, holding him close. However, she couldn't stop herself from shaking even more in his embrace, especially as he wrapped his arms around her as well – her safe place forming once again.

''Babe, you're shaking.“ His voice had chased away all the sanity in her mind. He had turned her back to porcelain, a fragile doll in need of his kisses and compliments and sexy smirks that made her weak in the knees. He still has all of her, she knows that. But she can't be porcelain again. Never again. Porcelain breaks.

Pushing against his chest, Y/N had stepped back, wiping under her nose with the back of her hand as she sniffled, holding her emotions in, regaining control. She turned to leave, only to find Ethan wanted her to stay.

''Please don't. Just...I've missed you. All of you.“ Ethan's desperate call had made her turn around, giving him a good look at not only her face but her growing abdomen. It felt like the light at the end of a very long tunnel for Ethan, but for Y/N it was anything but. It was the bottom of a well she worked so hard to climb out of.

''I'm not here to mend things between us, Ethan. I just needed to see you. Make sure you're alright. That's all.“ She struggled to keep her voice leveled, but the slight rasp to her tone had given him insight into her pain. And all he could think about is how much he hates that he had caused her any pain, regardless how she carries it with such grace that he had fallen in love with her all over again.

''I understand. I do. I don't deserve you nor do you have to give me a second chance. Y/N, I'm just asking for a moment longer. I haven't given up on you, but if you gave up on me...on us...I understand.“ Ethan wasn't hiding his emotion any longer. He stood there, bleeding heart in his hands out in the open, giving her the choice between mercy and revenge.

''Don't. Okay?“ She pressed her lips in a thin line, releasing a shaky breath.

''I'm sorry you've been hurting and I'm sorry I contributed to that pain. Hopefully, you'll get well and...I hope you'll be happy again. Because I do want that for you, Ethan. I do.“ Her eyes glossed over as he stepped closer to her, grateful he didn't try to manipulate her by saying he'd never be happy without her by his side. He let her speak. He didn't interrupt her. He let her be herself – the new Y/N, and he did love the new side of her too.

''And I hate myself for not seeing your pain before, but that doesn't excuse what you did. It doesn't magically erase the bad, the pain, the lost trust and...If I stay here any longer I might cave and fall back into the bad place you put me in...And I don't want to go there again, Ethan. And I don't want to make you feel worse about it because I want you to get better. Our babies will need you to get better.'' She smiled, absentmindedly placing a hand over her swollen belly and while it pained him, Ethan could tell she would be a good mother already.

''I didn't meant to hurt you. I guess I was hurting so badly...hating that you didn't. There was a wicked part of me that wanted you to hurt just as much. I shouldn't have started the conversation like that. I should have started with what's wrong with my mind. I should have done a lot of things differently and I'm so sorry I didn't.“ Ethan wanted to make amends, to make sure she knows he was working to be different, someone who wouldn't just hurt her for sport. Even he couldn't recognize that part of himself for it felt like a different person, a split personality, but he couldn't place blame on someone else because it was him. He had to take responsibility.

''I know.“ She smiled so kindly that he felt like he was in heaven. It's the same smile she used to give him when he'd come home from work and rush to kiss her before saying anything because that's all he could think about all day long.

''It doesn't make it hurt any less. It changed me, E. I'm not the same woman you married. And it's not the worst change. I actually like myself better now.“ She stepped closer once again, taking his hand in hers. She had turned it in her hold, his palm facing her belly as she placed it lightly.

''Thank you.“ Ethan whispered, wanting to cry but not because of the sadness that took over him when he realized he might not stand a chance with her, but happy tears over feeling her stomach. There was no movement, nothing that would let him know there are babies inside her other than the size of it, but he hadn't felt so happy in so long that he had forgotten what happiness meant.

''I should go. I'm getting tired so easily these days.“ She smiled, pulling his hand away, taking his happiness away in the process just as easily as she had given it.

''Will you come back?“ Ethan asked, knowing that he's supposed to come out in two weeks anyway, but he wasn't really asking if she'd come back here – but if she'd come back to him...to their house...to their life. She just smiled, shrugging because she could see right through him and he knew that.

''Birds often fly in different directions...it doesn't mean they never meet again after the winter has passed.“

Hearing someone approach had brought her out of her most recent Ethan memory, knowing she probably stayed too long – long enough to draw attention and worry. Quickly, she had placed the box back in the back of his sock drawer, her heart pounding so strongly she worried it might break her ribcage open.

''Hey? Found what you were looking for?“ Edward walks in, his charming smile erased with a worried glint in his bright blue eyes, a strand of his blonde hair falling from behind his ear and to his cheekbone which Y/N couldn't help but smile at. He looked like an angel, incredibly handsome and while her mind continued to push Ethan memory of him standing in the same place looking at her the same way, she focused on the British man who had been so kind to waste his lunch break on her.

''Yeah...I think I did.“

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[love-takes-work]

Ace/Aro Amethyst headcanons

Some people headcanon Amethyst as asexual and/or aromantic. I think that's pretty cool.

Unfortunately, some people are really hostile to this idea. Sometimes in a way that's problematic.

No, I'm not going to tell you you have to headcanon Amethyst as asexual and aromantic or else you're an acephobe. That's silly. Here's the problem: I recently came across a post on Reddit where a member of the Steven Universe subreddit demanded to know where the "stupid" headcanon of ace Amethyst came from and opined that it's ridiculous because that orientation does not "fit her personality."

Think about that for a sec, y'all.

Sexualities don't have personalities. This is a problem.

If you follow some of the interviews Rebecca Sugar has done over the years, especially lately, she sometimes talks about her growth toward understanding herself as bisexual and why it took her so long to figure it out. It was partly because media representation of characters follows a certain system, and as a result she'd been led to believe bisexual people were aggressively sexual, greedy, unfaithful, and extremely desirous of attention.

"I didn't know you could be a SHY bisexual," she said, and you can hear the wonder in her voice at that idea.

So let's really consider that, please. Any orientation can have any type of personality. And if you pigeonhole someone into what their orientation is likely to be because of how you interpret their personality and what messages you've internalized about what traits go with the way they are, you are probably contributing to this damaging message.

Moving on: full disclosure. I'm an asexual Steven Universe fan. I'm also aromantic. And anybody who says asexual people wouldn't have a personality like Amethyst has probably never hung out in a room full of asexual people. (Uh, I have.) 

There are shy people in the groups. There are conservative people in the groups. There are easily offended and sensitive people in the groups. But you will also find bawdy asexual people cracking gross jokes, asexual people who nevertheless turn everything into a sex joke, asexual people who are sex positive and even occasionally promiscuous or interested in sex. (If you don't understand how that's not a contradiction, I'll just leave you on your own to read some asexual education, because I'm not actually trying to go there with this post.)

Personally, I was raised by a rather crass mom whose sense of humor led her to blurt "IS IT A PENIS? BWAHAHAHA!" at the start of every round of Pictionary. She taught her daughters sex education early because she wanted us to know the facts, and though she joked about sex a lot, she also made it very clear that she expected us to make sex a part of our lives when we were older, and didn’t want us to think it was shameful or should be hidden. She gave us access to birth control in our mid teens and made sure we had the resources to make good choices about sex. It wasn't embarrassing or weird in our house. And even though I turned out ace, my siblings are straight and married. I grew up making ridiculous sex jokes and not being at all shocked by sexual humor or sexual situations. It was all just a good time and an accepting atmosphere. It was also okay that I didn't desire it myself. It didn't mean I couldn't dish out the innuendo with the best of them.

And yet, sometimes when I've come out as ace to someone and then they notice I use swear words, or am not horrified into covering my face during the movie's kissing scene, or have done things they really don't expect asexual people to enjoy, I'm treated to this weird mixture of shock-and-mock:

"Whaaaaat? Aren't you too PURE to use language like that, young lady?" "Plug your virgin ears, girl, we're talking about ADULT THINGS." "Don't worry, I won't mention S-E-X. LOL triggered." "She wouldn't be interested. It's about relationships and she thinks that's ICKY." "GASP! You just used the F word! Wait isn't that ironic?"

No, having a vocabulary that includes vulgarities and being tolerant of other people's desires is not inconsistent with being asexual. Being asexual means I don't feel sexually attracted to other people. It says absolutely zero about my behavior, and nothing I do is "wrong" behavior for an asexual person, because I am doing it.

Back to Amethyst.

Asexuality is a dicey issue for discussing Gems because technically they're all asexual. They are not a sexually reproducing species, so there really shouldn't be any reason for them to desire each other sexually. But they do seem to want intimacy and closeness in some situations, and there's definitely romantic attraction between some of them. It's sometimes hard to tell whether "sex" would be a concept available to them (besides Gems who shapeshift to mimic how humans do it), because it is after all a family show and sometimes you have to wonder if the relative chastity of some of the romantic scenes is due to the intended audience.

Amethyst has been more than once described by Rebecca Sugar as Dionysian. She was set up as an opposite to Pearl's Apollonian nature. If you don't know, Apollo vs. Dionysus is a concept of Greek origin that's often used in literature to set characters at odds with each other. Apollo is everything Pearl is: rational, clean, proper, perfect. Dionysus instead embraces the mess, just like Amethyst: Dionysian characters are sloppy, unruly, chaotic, and (this is important) hedonistic. They do what feels good.

Given this, I understand the root of why some people feel asexuality and Amethyst wouldn't go together well. And all things considered, it's true: Amethyst seems, to me, like the kind of Gem who would try anything, especially if other people seemed to enjoy it and especially if abstaining is portrayed as prudent and restrained. She's a let-it-loose kind of character. It's hard to imagine someone like her, who loves to eat, sleep, hoard, and be lazy, wouldn't have tried a few rolls in the hay, right?

Well, sure. Maybe.

And yet we've seen no specific evidence of it.

She could choose any form but she's never seen trying to change herself to look sexy; she's displayed no particular intimate or romantic interest in anyone beyond casual physicality and warmth; she's the only main-four Crystal Gem who hasn't been pursued romantically by a human; she's a little insecure and seems to crave attention sometimes but never spins it as a need to be fulfilled by romantic attention; she never expresses that she wishes she was someone's partner. Who knows? Maybe she's tried it out, found nothing she liked, said "Eh," and decided it's not her bag.

Hedonism is about embracing what feels good. If those kinds of relationships just didn’t feel good for her, I could see her just deciding they were boring and still fully embracing her other Dionysian qualities. She can indulge in naps and eat all the food in the fridge and hoard all the garbage she wants . . . without that indicating she must also possess and pursue amorous relations.

There’s also the fact that a minority of asexual people are like “eh, screw it, I’ll try it,” and don’t find sex completely objectionable or might even like it. (Not all, not most, not me, but this does exist.) They still may not desire it the way non-asexual people do, or may experience no attraction despite having neutral or positive feelings about the act itself. Who knows? Amethyst could be like that. We’ve seen her eat food that she doesn’t even like, just ‘cause it’s there. Some people take or leave sex like that.

And if you say her "type" necessarily incorporates promiscuity or a large sexual appetite, or you say she couldn't be ace because she's not uptight and strait laced, you're buying right into the damaging stereotypes about asexual people.

It's certainly not acephobic to headcanon Amethyst as bisexual or pansexual or lesbian or whatever you want. And it's fine if you believe the closeness she’s displayed with others that I interpret as friendship or non-romantic intimacy is actually a different flavor. What's NOT fine is saying Amethyst CANNOT be asexual or aromantic because of weird beliefs you have about what ace/aro people would be like.

Further, asexual people unfortunately don't have that much representation, and usually we're reduced to embracing absence as evidence. If a character isn't shown to "like" anyone that way, whoa, they might be ace! It's so very rare that a character does actively say or do something that indicates their lack of attraction. We often have to see ourselves in the "not yet" if we want any representation at all, running the risk of having our headcanons smashed as soon as a writer decides a certain type of attraction in a relationship will make that character interesting. But at least we're in the same boat as every other fan there. What we want to happen isn't necessarily what will happen.

And for those who think Amethyst might be ace and/or aro, she's such a great example of someone who isn't defined by the overly cautious, conservative germophobe who's obsessed with logic and conflates their abstention with purity and righteousness. I get really tired of asexuality being tied in with those traits because non-ace writers can't imagine ace people without sucking fun and flexibility out of their souls. (And on the flip side, isn't it wonderful to have the logical, organized, clean, perfect character be a giant lesbian? This is one box queer women rarely see themselves put in, but I know they're out there. I'm friends with a few.)

As for me, do I headcanon Amethyst as asexual or aromantic? Honestly, I am not very invested in this theory. 

I can see it and I could support it in a debate if someone asked me to. But I think Amethyst could turn out to be anything; really, the most likely thing for her to be is fluid. I think she's cute with Pearl sometimes, though Pearl having a mom vibe and being so much older and having other attractions does give me pause. I think the idea of her with Peridot or Vidalia is interesting, though Peridot more than Amethyst reads as possibly ace and there's more built up between her and Lapis now. I could even see her with another tertiary character someday; I wouldn't bat an eye.

But Amethyst as ace and/or aro would also make complete sense to me and might even fit best with her livin' free and unbound attitude, and when you look at the asexual flag, Amethyst is certainly dressed for it.

[lunias-takes-on-homestuck]

My Classpects Through the Years

I started getting into Homestuck in late 2012, about a year after [S] Cascade dropped, and like most of y’all I got pretty interested in the system of Classes and Aspects.

...Okay, I got obsessed with it. Who wouldn’t? A highly-flexible system of essentially taking an aspect of reality and interpreting it through the lens of a key verb or idea, creating unique and self-determined power sets limited only by your own imagination? That’s wild. And when I say I got into it, I mean I really got into it. I dove deep into Homestuck’s lore, reading up on popular and somewhat fringe theories about what each Aspect related to, how the Classes utilized them, what the potential Active/Passive pairings were, and how certain Aspects seemed to oppose each other. I even went so far as to contribute to a theory regarding the future of Tavros Nitram, which... didn’t exactly pan out as expected... but it was a ton of fun! And of course, while I was certainly interested in what this all meant for our cast of characters, I was also interested in how it could be interpreted and/or applied to real people.

People are, of course, far more complicated than a simple personality test could possibly explain, but I still got a lot of entertainment out of trying to pin down the classpects of characters or people I knew irl. Which naturally included me. Looking back on it, I think it’s very interesting to see the progression in ideas that led up to my more recent musings, so I figured it would be cool to dive into that and share my past and current classpects here!

Credits:

All images are pulled from the Homestuck Classpect Chart Updated posted by JosiahR94 on DeviantArt.

Artists: Zynchilada (compiled, partially drawn) and Owyn (updated at original resolution). Both blogs listed on the artwork have since been deactivated.

2012-2013 - Knight of Breath

This one is the byproduct of some test manipulation on my part - the fan test I was using was based on MBTI and Jungian archetypes, and honestly I’ve never found them to remain accurate for longer than a couple months at a time. I’ve wound my way around four different MBTI results over the years so I’m not inclined to use them as the basis for much, especially since the original test included fan-created classes and aspects that I really didn’t understand or jive with. But even once I narrowed it down to strictly canonical classes and aspects, I still wound up going with the 3rd-most accurate one. At the time I saw the Knight as the Active Exploiter class, the type to jump into action and wield their aspect as a weapon. I really related the idea of a detached loner who was fiercely protective of their friends, and John had shown off very, very recently (for me, anyway) just how powerful wind could be. The powers were sick, the outfit was neat, and it was absolutely wrong in nearly every way. Nearly. But we’ll get to that.

2013-2015 - Seer of Doom

You’re probably a little familiar with this one if you’ve been keeping up with Homestuck theorists lately, as there are two prolific content creators I know of who identify as Seers of Doom. For some time, I did too! The change was largely brought about because I thought my initial Knight of Breath result hadn’t been accurate enough, and also because I wanted to try my hand at classpecting myself without the aid of tests. At the time I was really feeling the Doom aspect and I saw myself as a guide (or maybe a teacher?) so it felt like it fit. There was just one sliiiight problem - I was entirely focused on how the Doom aspect related to the problems I was having in my life, rather than how I viewed the world around me and interacted with it. I still felt like I was sort of onto something with Doom, but it took some major life events to give me the nudge I needed to see things a little more clearly...

2015-2020 - Sylph of Life

For me, 2015 felt like the year I was finally coming out of my funk and figuring my shit out. It’s the year I started taking college courses (well, a college course), getting into meetups, making new friends, and reinventing myself. At some point I decided that the issue with my initial Doom analysis was that I was overly focused on the challenges I had instead of how I actually dealt with them, and my new aggressively-optimistic outlook would simply not mesh with Doom. Not one bit. I also felt that my class didn’t quite fit, and Sylph was sitting right there with their magick-y healing and creation powerset -- the ultimate support, and the type of person who makes their own way through life by simply refusing to accept they could be stopped or put down by anything. By the time the Extended Zodiac Quiz came out in 2017 and confirmed I was Lifebound, I had already proven to be on top of my game in college in a creative field. I joined our LGBT+ club and started somewhat aggressively railing against overly-restrictive labels and social constructs in Contemporary English to the point that I was exceeding the page limit on our essay assignments on a regular basis and still felt I wasn’t saying everything I wanted to say. Sylph of Life just clicked for me in a way the Knight of Breath and Seer of Doom never had, so I figured I’d nailed it.

Then, earlier this year, I found out I was actually a girl.

2020-Present - Knight of Life... or maybe Heart???

Imagine for a minute that you’re at a theater watching some movie through the perspective of the protagonist. You think you’ve got the plot all figured out, you’re guessing every story beat, and then in the last 5 minutes the big twist reveals the protagonist has unwittingly been an unreliable narrator for the last two hours. Literally everything you thought you understood has been flipped on its head, and it’s still good but it’s all very confusing. You leave the theater wondering what you just watched, and as you turn on your car you suddenly realize there were subtle hints foreshadowing the twist for over half the film. With every passing second the pieces start coming together, and you just know that watching it again would leave you going “How the hell did I miss that?!”

That’s about the best way I can explain what I’ve been experiencing for the past four-ish months. All the puzzle pieces I had put together were thrown totally out of whack and I’m finding every day that there are aspects of myself and my personality that I never knew where there. Discovering myself is hard work, but it’s a wonderful feeling, and it’s no wonder that on the heels of this I’m seriously vibing with the aspect relating to Personal Identity. That said, I still find myself parsing labels and identity through the lens of Life - words which are too restrictive to properly convey who I am, and an experience that can’t be explained or constrained by the stereotypical narrative people tend to have about people who are bisexual, polyamorous, transgender, and at once more complicated than those words can really describe. When I take the Extended Zodiac Quiz I find that I’m still Lifebound, but changing even a single question by a single step leaves me Heartbound instead, and I think that dichotomy really mirrors where I feel I’m at as a person.

Class-wise, I feel drawn to both Sylph and Knight to a degree, but in the years since I first chose the Knight of Breath classpect I have come to understand the class as a Passive Server - one who gives for the benefit of others - and that speaks to me. The wonderful Mythological Class Quiz by @homestuckexamination has only confirmed my suspicions about that. I have yet to decide between Knight of Life and Knight of Heart, but they’re both very interesting classpects imo, and either way I’m sure I’ll be spending far too much of my free time developing powers and things for them :P

Takeaway

Whew, that’s a lot of words! But what exactly does it all mean? Well... if you ask me, Classpecting is sort of a process. I’m sure that, years down the line, I’ll probably say I had it all wrong and I’m actually some other combination of class and aspect, and I’ll reminisce about the days when I was so obviously misreading myself. But that’s kind of the fun of it, isn’t it? It’s just another form of personality quiz, albeit one where you get sick powers and a nifty set of pajamas at the end. And for all the good that introspection can do to help you understand yourself a little better, you better believe I’m going to be spending the next hour or two debating whether passing out heals and buffs while tanking everything would be more cool than body-surfing and turning enemies into clones à la Agent Smith in The Matrix: Reloaded.

[readbeneaththelines]

Breaking Point Pt. 6

A/N: when you have been there for Yoongi, through thick and thin. What will hapeen when you leave, hoping that he will remember the love you two had? Will he find you and get you back, are you willing to give him a second chance… Or is this your breaking point? Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: as always… Angst

Word Count:  1009

cr, to owner of gif

“Hello Kim Seokjin speaking.” Yoongi’s boss answered on the first ring. “Jin, its Yoongi. I am going to have to take and extended leave of absence. I have a family emergency that I desperately need to tend too.” He could hear his boss sigh heavily on the other line. “Yoongi. I really need you here. We have one month til deadline and you are our top producer. I can’t risk having you take time off and lose this deal.” Yoongi shook his head, frustration rising to the point of anger. “Jin, I am going to take the time. I have it saved up. I have everything pretty much completed, and besides you have Tae or Joon that can fill in for the sound checks and recording the final tracks. I’m sorry Jin, but you either let me have the time off, or I will have to quit, and I don’t want to do that to you or myself.” After several seconds of silence, his boss gave Yoongi the answer he needed. “This had better be life threatening Yoongi, or else I will fire you when you return. I’m giving you two weeks to start with. We can negotiate after that if you need more time.” 

“Thanks Jin. This is why your the best boss I’ve ever had.” Jin laughed “I’m the only boss you ever had. Now go take care of things so I can have you back at work.”

Yoongi hung up, thankful for a boss who, though mostly stubborn as hell, is willing to work with him. With that settled, his next order of business was to track you down. Your sister chewed him a new ass when he called her yesterday, and your mother was no help either. He stayed up all night trying to figure out where you could have gone. The interstate lead north and south, and you could have taken either ramp Then it hit him, at four in the morning, the bank account. You both shared an account, and you would have put a room on the card. Opening his laptop, he searched the account, only to find you didn’t used the debit card after all. “She really wanted to disappear.” he mumbled to himself, sleep deprivation kicking in. Laying down on the couch, he closed his eyes, a myriad of ideas running through his mind of where you could have gone. His last hope in finding you was to call the credit card company tomorrow and see if he would have any luck there. He finally fell asleep as tears once again filled his eyes. 

You couldn’t sleep after talking to Yoongi. You tossed and turned, the sheets a tangled mess around your legs, a perfect representation of your life right now, a tangled mess of emotions. Exasperated, you sit up, resting your back against the headboard. You look over at your phone on the coffee table, an internal battle in your head debating on whether you should pick it up and call him again. You just needed to hear his voice again, then you could sleep. Who were you kidding? No you wouldn’t. You would lose what little bit of resolve you still had in you and go back. Forgiving him and risking it all happening again. Head winning over heart this time, you opted for turning on the television and watching something mundane. It was of no use, and when your alarm went off at six a.m., you were still wide awake and still feeling lost. 

You hit the snooze button, thinking that you had nothing planned for the day. Pulling the covers over your head, you nestled deep into a cocoon of darkness. Talking to him yesterday did a number on your emotions. He sounded so- so broken. You wanted to take a peek at your phone, but thought better of it. If he texted you, or called, then maybe getting a taste of his own medicine would do him some good. Sighing deeply, you figured you would get up and take a shower. Maybe you could see what was in this town you were staying in had to offer. You looked at the remaining clothes you had. A wrinkled linen pair of pants and an equally wrinkled three-quarter sleeved cream colored top. You pulled the provided iron from the closet, laying your outfit out on the ironing board. Twenty minutes later, your clothes looked refreshed, but your face told another story. No amount of make-up could hide the bags under your eyes. 

Taking the fresh brewed coffee from the decanter, you sat at the table and peered out the window overlooking the city. The sky was overcast, dark clouds looming overhead. Much like how you felt, dark and heavy. Your eyes trailed to the phone that still sat on the table. 

Just one phone call, it couldn’t hurt anything.

But you knew better. It could hurt you even more than you already did. 

But he promised you he would find you again. That he did love you.

You recall that he said that before, that he told you he loved you and always would. You desperately wanted to believe it, and somewhere deep you did. He worked hard, always provided for you. You even had the luxury of not having to work if you didn’t want to. YOu only did because you knew you would go crazy if you stayed home twenty-four seven. And you also wanted to contribute to the household. In the beginning, he was home every night, just in time to have dinner with you. He made time for you every weekend. But lately. Lately he was always gone. Staying late and working on the weekends. You missed the old Yoongi, the Yoongi you fell in love with. You still loved him, but did he think it worth really working for? He told you he would fight for you, win you back, but how much effort was he planning on putting into it. 

A lifetime of trying, but you didn’t know that yet.

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17 @kingsuckjin @min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoongi @trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570