#which isn't to say it's impossible to be a good person with it because it's all just weird brain juice and brain juice can be treated

[marrow-bone]

Totally fair; but I meant he's acting literally anti-social, I didn't say anti-social pd. Anti-social as in 'literally hates and lashes out at people in general'; 'against society'.

imagine being this much of a sociopath

[thebreakfastgenie]

While back you said we need a functional rightwing party in the US, elaborate on that?

I said we need a functional conservative party. It's not technically incorrect to use right wing in this context, but colloquially right wing often implies farther right/more extreme, so I want to be clear that's not what I mean.

Unfortunately, half of this country (give or take) is conservative. They need a party to vote for. They're not going to just vote for Democrats anyway, we have ample evidence of that. I would like them to vote for a conservative party that is not comprised of insane wannabe fascists as the Republican Party currently is. I know in partisan politics people love to call their opponents evil, but that's not an exaggeration with the Republican Party at this point. I think that can be hard to see because we used hyperbole against Republicans in the past before it was literally true, and also because the far right capture of the Republican Party has been a longterm project, but they used to be normal. Bad, but normal. Nixon resigned before articles of impeachment were brought against him because Republican Senators told him they had the votes to convict in the Senate. That was a mere 50 years ago. And Nixon era Republicans weren't exactly cute and fluffy, a lot of their policies were very right. They still rejected their president when he got caught committing crimes.

We need two parties. The US system makes it pretty much impossible to have more than two at the national level, and it's really not that big a deal--with primaries and state-level parties we can have parties like the modern Democratic Party that are effectively large coalition parties. Having one party isn't good. Philosophically I'm against one-party rule and just in terms of functionality, there's a reason everyone complains about New York Democrats. In states that are so non-competitive they effectively have one party rule, the government tends to become dysfunctional. You see a lot of corruption and cronyism too. Elections are decided in the party primaries, which means you have to registered with that party. Even in open primary states, you can pick which primary you vote in but you can only vote in one. So you have to choose between building opposition or getting any say at all over who your governor, mayor, etc. is. Sometimes people who would, for example, be Republicans in any other state, run as Democrats in deep blue states because it's the only way to get elected. That's also not helpful.

Even if it wasn't a terrible idea, one party rule at the national level is not really viable. Enough of our voters are fickle and perpetually dissatisfied. "Democrats win every election for the foreseeable future" is not a viable election strategy. As we've seen, we can't count on that. People complain that liberals say every election is life or death, but we say that because every election since 2016 has been life or death. That's not normal. Losing elections is supposed to be disappointing, not apocalyptic.

As a left-leaning person, of course I think it would be great to have a center-left party and a left party, but that's not the reality of the electorate. Most of this country is further right than me. I'm not going to give up on persuasion, but in the meantime they need a party to vote for that isn't attempting to implement fascism and blowing up our relationships with our allies. People who don't agree with me have a right to political representation too. I would never vote for this hypothetical functional conservative party, I would campaign against it every time, but for the health of democracy it needs to exist.

[girl-named-matty]

I'M GLAD YOU ASKED BECAUSE I WAS GONNA TALK ABOUT THEM ANYWAY!!! @celestial--sapphic.

Blair - So obviously as I semi-explained in the caption, Blair is Imelda's sister. Her older sister, to be exact. Unlike Imelda, Blair was sorted into Gryffindor house instead of Slytherin, and is a lot more outgoing, per se, than her younger sister. Blair is decently social as most gryffs are but she also only wants to socialize with certain people.

She loves quidditch and is the beater for the Gryffindor team. And as annoying older siblings do, she always tends to pick on Imelda more during matches (don't worry, Imelda matches her immediately lol) but the rivalry is certainly there.

Blair isn't a huge fan of reading but she does love art. Sketching, painting, whatever it may be, she loves it. Most of her homework has doodles on it or whatever paper she gets her hands on tbh. She's a big outdoorsy person and loves being out and about. The only time she "likes" reading is when Anastasia is the one reading to her.

And ofc because I love Arcane, I did get inspiration from Vi while making Blair's character. (Vi loves books tho don't come @ me)

Anastasia - Anastasia comes from a bit more of a "posh" background than Blair, one could say. She was raised in a wealthy family of pretty good status. Unlike Blair, as mentioned earlier, she loves reading and could spend hours doing it. Anything from plays to a textbook, it keeps her occupied and she likes it. She's found her own face doodled in Blair's notebooks several times but she's never told Blair that she knows--she thinks its a sweet gesture.

Anastasia does not play quidditch but she's always making it to Blair's games to cheer her on. She's not a super sportsy girl in the slightest but she certainly enjoys watching her girlfriend play them lol.

She's much more of an introvert than Blair is so often times its Blair BEGGING her to go out until she finally gives in but she is quite literally attached to the hip the entire time. Then an hour later she's like "baby can we go :(((" which is honestly so real.

and again since I can't help my arcane obsession, Anastasia is also inspired by Mel LOL

Relationship timeline - Blair and Anastasia met in their 3rd year at Hogwarts when they began taking the same elective, Divination. Anastasia noticed that Blair was struggling with her work and went to go help her out of the kindness of her heart. Ofc, 13-year-old Blair's brain who thinks Ana is rlly pretty immediately just goes dumb and she can hardly answer any of the questions.

Anastasia moved on from the moment afterwards but she continued to be on Blair's mind almost constantly. They became friends and hung out all the time, however it took three years of pining for Blair to actually say anything about it. In their 6th year, she finally confessed her feelings to Anastasia, practically just blurting them out as it was physically impossible for her to keep them quiet anymore.

Much to her relief, Anastasia had harbored the same feelings for her over that past year, a much shorter time than Blair's 3 years but they loved each other nonetheless.

After that, they entered their official relationship and are super happy <3

[archerstreet]

it's not sinking in that today might be the last day in my house and town for many months to come

[raywhitfield92]

I might get a lot of hate for this, but I want Helluva Boss to explore the myriad of reasons cis women get abortions. I want it to be explored in a healthy way

Because I feel in the current climate (especially politically) people don't want to ever think of the possibility that a woman won't want children. Millie isn't happy about this news.

And I'd absolutely love for Millie to not tell Moxxie she had an abortion, I want her to feel guilty about it and talk to Blitzø about it, worrying that if Moxxie knew he'd hate her.

And I want Blitzø to convince her that because he loves her he would support her no matter what. And when she tells Moxxie he just says "it's your body so it's your choice, but next time let me know so I can help you through this."

Not all cis women want nor can physically have children. We need to talk about abortion in a much healthier way than the current climate allows.

Edit to add this:

Okay so while replying to someone it made me think, what if they tied this in to Stella's backstory? Very early on we see that Stella seems kind of distant towards Octavia.

If Stella is a woman who was forced to have a child when she didn't want one, her personality towards Stolas and Octavia becomes more apparent.

She spends more time with her brother than with Octavia.

she even calls her "an egg"

and "his daughter" instead of ever calling her Octavia or even her own daughter.

This could be a good way to explore how a person who was forced into a mothering role could act, and explains her distaste for Stolas' strength of actually doing something against the Ars Goetias authority.

Stella in this moment sees Octavia crying, but if we look at her eyes closely she isn't watching the television, she's looking at Octavia and smiling at the fact she's in pain.

Stella thinks she's proven here that it's impossible/was impossible to ever go against the status quo, that her wishes of ever disobeying the Goetia is futile and she's proven to Stolas and Octavia that it was always impossible.

I think a plot like this could really help the audience understand childfree people from a different perspective, and what  could happen if you force a person who wishes to be childfree to have a child.

She could even have been mentally unwell/unstable after/before giving birth, which effects how she reacts towards people.

We as a society need to stop pressuring people into doing things our grandparents did just because it's what is expected of you.

This whole show is about generational trauma and breaking free from it, so I can see the show going this direction if it chooses to.

What do you think of this idea, and of it tying into a possible Stella backstory?

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[player042]

HER SUN, HIS MOON | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: opposites attract, they say, but absolutely no one could prepare you for the impact dae-ho would have in your life. requested here.

warning: pre squid game au, grumpy x sunshine dynamics, reader has personality similar to sae-byeok's, kinda colleagues to friends to lovers, heart-melting dae-ho being utterly smitten and protective, mention of fighting and blood, prepare for banter and love that feels like the perfect balance, and please enjoy ♥️

word count: 3.7k

Dae-ho and you were written in the stars. Not in words, but through a bond that neither time nor reason could break. As if the universe itself had signed a soul contract on your behalf, interlinking the two of you forever, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Because you could think of no other explanation for how you and Dae-ho had found your way to each other.

For he and you were opposites in every conceivable way. He was golden hours spent laughing, and you were the quiet serenity of midnight. He was the light on a summer day, you were the shadow on a winter night. He was a golden retriever, bounding through life with enthusiasm and a need to love and be loved, while you were the black cat, aloof and deliberate, your affection hard-earned and fiercely given. He was the proverbial sunshine boyfriend, and you? The grumpy girlfriend, even if you'd never admit it aloud.

You still remembered the early days before you were together. Back then, you had avoided entanglements, thinking emotions were too unpredictable, too messy. Dae-ho, on the other hand, had been nothing but heart, an open book that practically had shouted his feelings with every glance, every action. Easygoing. Flirty. Compassionate. Gentle. Funny. Supportive. That's how he'd always been. You had worked at the same bookstore café as part-timers, making money on the side while studying at uni, and he had been the kind of coworker who brought in homemade snacks to share, who remembered the regulars' orders, who lit up every corner of the room just by being there

And you? You had preferred the quiet. You'd worked the closing shift to avoid the chaos, stocked the shelves in peace, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. Yet somehow, Dae-ho had decided you were his favorite person in the room.

Work had been slow that day, the kind of lazy afternoon where time seemed to drag. You had been in the back, sorting through new stock, when Dae-ho had appeared like a whirlwind of energy. As usual, he had brought his sunshine into the room, whistling a tune as he had sauntered over to where you had been crouched on the floor.

"Need a hand?" he asked, grinning as he leaned casually against the shelf. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you wary.

"No," you said simply, focusing on the stack of books in front of you. "I'm fine."

"That's debatable," he replied, crouching down next to you. "You've been glaring at those books like they owe you money. Which, knowing you, isn't completely impossible."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "They're disorganized. It's irritating."

"I think you mean it's irresistible," he corrected, emphasizing the word as he tilted his head to get a better look at your face. "Because you're clearly putting all your energy into ignoring the most charming guy in the room."

You'd turned to him then, giving him a flat look. "Charming? You?"

His hand went to his chest, mock offense lighting up his features. "Ouch. That hurts. Right here." He tapped his heart, then flashed you an exaggerated pout. "You wound me."

"Good," you shot back, turning back to the books. "Maybe it'll teach you some humility."

He let out a soft laugh, his voice dipping lower. "Nah, I think I'll keep my ego intact, thanks. It's my best feature. Or… is it my smile? You've been staring at it a lot lately, so maybe I should ask you."

Your fingers froze on the book in your hand, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, and worse, he lived for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said smoothly, though your face betrayed you with the faintest hint of pink in your cheeks.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer. "Don't play coy with me. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

You turned to glare at him, which only made him grin wider. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice was soft now, his gaze steady as he inched just a bit closer. "Because I'd bet my entire paycheck that you're thinking about how good I'd look kissing you right now."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's a terrible bet," you deadpanned with your best pokerface, setting the book aside. "You don't even make that much."

His laughter echoed in the small space, rich and full of delight. "See? That's exactly why you're my favorite."

"You're annoying," you retorted, standing up and dusting off your jeans.

"And yet, you keep me around." He stood as well, towering over you slightly. His boyish grin softened into something more genuine, his eyes lingering on yours. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

You had rolled your eyes, "You wish."

"I do," he remarked, "And you love it," he winked at you before strolling off, whistling that same tune as before.

And damn it, you did love it.

No one understood it back then. This thing you two had. They still didn't understand. How could someone so effervescent, so outwardly bright, have chosen someone so reserved, so calculated? How could two people so different orbit each other with such ease? But honestly, they didn't need to understand. It was him and you that counted. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced in your differences, inseparable in ways that defied explanation. 

And so, it began, this undefined connection between you. Gradually, you found yourselves spending more and more time together. Dinners after work became a casual routine, and weekends often led to shared nights out at bars.

On one particular Saturday night, the bar you went to was packed; the air buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. It was one of those rare nights where you let yourself relax, even though relaxing wasn't exactly your forte. Of course, it helped that Dae-ho was there, his larger-than-life presence somehow managing to make you forget how crowded and loud the place was.

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, while Dae-ho leaned against the counter beside you, a mischievous grin perpetually plastered on his face. He was in rare form all evening, tossing out jokes and one-liners, testing just how far he could push your usual stoic demeanor.

"Come on," he teased, nudging your arm gently. "I know, you're having fun. You're smiling. At least on the inside."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "I don't smile."

"Not true," he countered, wagging a finger at you. "You smiled that one time when I tripped on the stairs."

"That wasn't a smile," you clarified with absolutely no emotion in your face, "That was schadenfreude."

"Call it whatever you want," he replied with a wink. "It still counts."

Your lips twitched slightly at that, betraying a flicker of amusement you tried to hide. Of course, Dae-ho noticed instantly, pointing at you triumphantly.

"Aww, I'm growing on you."

"Like mold," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink to mask your expression.

Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I've been told I have a certain… effect on people. Charm, charisma, devastating good looks, take your pick."

"Is that what your sisters told you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "Ah, there's the sharp tongue I love. Keep it coming, baby."

"Stop calling me that," you grumbled, even as your stomach flipped at the nickname.

As the evening went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm of teasing and banter, your words volleying back and forth like it was second nature. The bustling crowd and occasional jostle of bodies around you became background noise as your attention fixated on each other. What you did notice, however, was how close he's got. His shoulder brushed yours, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke in that low, teasing tone.

"So," he said casually, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how long are you going to keep pretending you don't like me?"

You snorted, leaning back slightly in an attempt to create some distance, not that it helped. "What makes you think I like you?"

"Your complete inability to look me in the eye when I do this," he explained, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture had been so smooth, so effortlessly intimate, it left you momentarily speechless.

"Is your ego always this big, or is it just me?" you managed to ask, though your voice had sounded weaker than you intended.

"Just you," he replied, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You bring out the best in me, moonbeam."

Before you could formulate a snappy retort, a commotion erupted behind you. Raised voices and curses cut through the background noise, drawing your attention to a group of men arguing near a table. One of them shoved another, and you instinctively tensed.

"Dae-ho," you hissed, elbowing him. "Something's happening."

"Huh?" He blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from you to glance in the direction of the chaos. "Oh. Looks like a fight."

"Yeah, thanks, Sherlock," you muttered, standing up as the tension escalated. One of the men pulled out a knife, waving it threateningly.

"Let's just get out of here," you grabbed Dae-ho's arm. But before you could pull him away, the fight spilled dangerously close to the bar.

Everything that happened next was a blur. The man with the knife lunged forward, clearly aiming for his opponent, but the latter ducked, and somehow, Dae-ho, who inexplicably stepped forward, took the hit instead.

"Shit!" you yelled, catching him as he stumbled back. The knife had grazed his side, leaving a shallow but nasty wound. Blood seeped through his shirt, and panic had gripped you.

"Dae-ho!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He winced, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess I wasn't."

"No kidding," you snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar to press against his wound. "Who gets stabbed because they're too busy flirting?"

"Is that… your way of admitting I'm hard to resist?" he asked, his voice strained but still tinged with humor.

You glared at him, though your heart was racing for entirely different reasons. "Shut up and sit down. You're bleeding."

"I've had worse," he said, but he sank obediently into a nearby chair, his hand covering yours as you applied pressure to his wound. "Besides, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I was fine," you muttered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who almost got killed because you can't stop playing knight in shining armor."

"Be honest," he said with a weak chuckle. "You'd really miss me if I wasn't around."

You froze at his words, remembering the last time, he's said them, your breath hitching. But this time, the thought of losing him, wasn't so far away. Momentarily, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Don't be stupid," you said softly.

"I knew it! I do have an effect on you," he grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my victory now, thanks." 

You rolled your eyes, but the faint tremble in your hands gave you away. "Just… try not to die, okay?"

His grin widened, despite the pain etched across his face. "If it means seeing you worried about me? Worth it."

As much as you wanted to deny it back then, he hadn't been wrong. You would miss him. And that had terrified you more than any knife ever could.

Your relationship had always been a slow burn, like embers catching fire after months of waiting for the perfect conditions. On that rainy Saturday night, after the chaos at the bar, you found yourself driving Dae-ho to the hospital, his side patched up with hastily wrapped gauze that barely held back the bleeding. He sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy dampened by the pain and the rain drumming on the windshield.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered after a while, his head leaning back against the seat.

"Of course I did," you replied without looking at him, your knuckles tight around the steering wheel. "I wasn't going to let you bleed out in some alley."

He chuckled faintly, the sound tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You've got a funny way of showing you care."

You ignored him, keeping your focus on the road, though your heart clenched at the way his voice sounded weaker than usual.

At the hospital, you stayed with him through the stitches, arms crossed over your chest as he cracked half-hearted jokes to distract himself from the needle. When the nurse asked if you were his girlfriend, you didn't bother to deny it, instead rolling your eyes and muttering, "Just patch him up, will you?"

By the time you were finally helping him to his apartment, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. He leaned on you as you guided him up the stairs, his weight a reminder of how fragile this moment felt despite the humor he tried to inject into it.

As you reached the cover of his apartment's awning, you let out a breath, finally releasing your grip on his arm. The warm glow of the entryway light cast over the two of you, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips despite everything.

"I've got to say," he began, leaning heavily against the doorframe, "I think this is the longest you've ever willingly spent with me. Kind of feels like progress."

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're an idiot," you said, shaking your head. "Why do you always make everything a joke?"

"Because someone's gotta balance us out," he quipped, though his grin faltered as he studied your face. "You're always so serious, moonbeam."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of rain filling the silence. He tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push further. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "Why do you act like you don't care when I know you do?"

His question caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice digging into the walls you'd carefully built around yourself. You looked away, the words forming in your throat before you could stop them. "Because caring about people… it hurts. And I've had enough of that."

Silence stretched between you again, heavier this time. When you finally looked at him, the teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't get it," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

"Don't get what?"

"You. Why you're always so nice to me."

He tilted his head as he studied you through the rain. "Because you're worth it," he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his voice soft but certain. "And because I like you."

The words caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. You could only stare at him, the rain a gentle soundtrack to the weight of his confession.

"Say something, moonbeam," he teased, his grin crooked but genuine.

The rawness of his words, the way he had said them like a promise, made something inside you snap. Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching for his collar. You kissed him, tentative at first, your lips brushing against his like you were testing the waters. He froze, clearly surprised, but only for a short moment. Then his hands were on your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a tenderness that belied his usual boldness.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of blood and rain, made your head spin. It wasn't rushed or frantic, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn't want to miss a single second of it. When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unreadable.

"That's a good start," he murmured, his fingers brushing a raindrop from your cheek.

And that was the night everything shifted.

Even now, years later, as you sat curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, that kiss lingered in your memory, replaying in these quiet moments like a favorite song. You hadn't realized it then, but that kiss had marked the beginning of a life you'd never imagined for yourself, a life with him. You were lazily scrolling through your phone, as the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that told you Dae-ho was busy doing something, blending with the faint hum of his voice as he moved about.

You smiled to yourself, tracing the worn fabric of the hoodie with your fingertips.

"Babe," his voice called from the kitchen, teasing and light, pulling you from your thoughts, "if I bring you coffee in bed, does that make me husband material, or is it too early for that kind of promotion?"

You snorted, setting your phone down as you stretched. "You've gotta stop campaigning so hard, Dae-ho. It's getting desperate."

He appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee and wearing the kind of grin that made your stomach flip. "Desperate? Honey, this is a demonstration of premium boyfriend services." He crossed the room, setting the mugs on the coffee table before flopping down next to you.

"Premium?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even bring toast."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Are you doubting the quality of my care and devotion?"

"I'm just saying," you replied with a smirk, "a little effort wouldn't kill you."

"Oh, you want effort?" he teased, leaning over you, his face suddenly much closer than you anticipated. His arm stretched over the back of the couch, caging you in just slightly. "Name it, and it's yours."

You stared at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Okay. Toast. I want toast."

He narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "You sure about that? Not, I don't know, me? Because I'm sitting right here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed as he leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something warmer. "You're still annoying," you said under your breath, trying to sound in-fact annoyed, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you intended.

"And you're adorable," he shot back, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think we're even."

The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer until your legs were tangled together, his thumb idly tracing circles over the fabric of your hoodie.

"You look good in my clothes," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Almost too good. How am I supposed to let you out of this apartment now?"

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up, even as your heart raced. "Who said I was going anywhere?"

His grin widened at your response, and before you could say anything else, he turned you with a swift motion, settling you on top of him so that your legs straddled his hips. The shift left you breathless, your bare thighs brushing against his sides as his hands splayed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now, a little rougher around the edges. His dark eyes held yours, their usual playfulness tempered with something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter. "Because I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head back slightly, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your hip. "You, moonbeam," he murmured, his gaze intense. "You're addicting. Like I'm craving something I can't ever stop wanting."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart thudding in your chest. You tried to compose yourself, to play it cool, but the way he looked at you made it impossible to be unaffected. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. "Dae-ho," you softly said his name the way you knew it drove him crazy, "You keep talking like that, and I might think you're the romantic one in this relationship."

His lips quirked into a smirk, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer. "Don't think. Know. And I'll keep proving it until you never question it again."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the warmth of his presence. "You're setting the bar pretty high for yourself, you know."

He shrugged, his hands never leaving your waist, "That just means I have to keep finding ways to spoil you."

In that moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together. His hands slowly slid down to your thighs now, his thumbs brushing over your skin, while his gaze never left yours. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms circled back around you, holding you impossibly close as though you might vanish if he didn't.

"I told you," he murmured against your lips. "Addicting."

"I know," you said softly, capturing his lips in another slow kiss. "And that's why I love you."

His boyish grin returned against your lips, softer this time, "I love you, too. But I'm still not getting up for toast."

You burst out laughing, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss against your jaw. Right then and there, everything felt right, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. You smiled, letting yourself melt into him, and you thought to yourself that this was where you were meant to be. Not because he was your sun or you were his moon, but because together, you created something whole. 

Something timeless. 

Something infinite.

And you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Slashers with a sleepwalking s/o

AN: totally based off my personal experiences sleepwalking lol asked my friends and family what their favorite sleepwalking episode was.

Jason Voorhees 🏕

Jason is already paranoid AF about you unknowingly wandering into a trap during the day.

But the first time he comes across you in the woods at night? When you should be asleep?

He is not a happy man. Many thoughts run through his mind. Are you trying to leave him? Trying to get yourself hurt? Would you rather die then be with him?

It takes him a good while and a lot of explaining for him to understand what's happening. That your not intentionally doing this. Science shit™️

He sets up a system. Maybe a bell or two. Something loud to let him know where you are. Maybe some trip wires.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: He watched you eat a entire sleeve of saltines while standing in the shower.

Michael Myers 🎃

Michael's seen some shit. So this is nothing. All those years in Smiths Grove have prepared him for this. So you sleepwalk? Cool, his neighbor at Smiths Grove used to eat cockroachs.

That being said, the closer you're relationship grows, the more worried he becomes. What if you fall down the stairs? What if you wander into the road? What if, what if, what if??

He doesn't have the foresight to set up traps, like Jason does.

Uses his fucked up sleep schedule to his advantage and often stands over your sleeping body. Jumpscare.

Will definitely tie a bell on you while you sleep. Totally not a collar what are you saying? Don't make it kinky.

The strangest thing he's seen you do: Put all of the remotes in the refrigerator because they needed batteries.

Thomas Hewitt 🥩

Poor sweet man. You're going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

However, he's probably one of the more better prepared of the lot. His house is set up to keep people in and out. So there isn't much danger you can get into.

Unless he forgets to lock up the basement. Which has happened once. And only once. You were fairly unharmed if not a little traumatized.

Has taken to locking your bedroom door. Also installs like 10 latches. AND puts a bell on the doorknob. And maybe sometimes you.

Look, he's already scared of losing you to somebody else, he doesn't want to have to worry him losing you to you.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: Him, Monty and Hoyt sat and watched you stand in front of the sink for a hour and a half. Just standing there. Menacingly

Brahms Heelshire 🐀

Oh, poor baby is confused. Especially at the start of your situation-ship. You don't know he's there, you just think you're babysitting a doll for a sad old couple. Not their grown ass son who lives in the walls.

The first time Brahms finds you sleepwalking, he's pissed. You trying to leave him, he knows you are. But... did you just snore?? Wait, you're asleep. He feels a little better about the situation.

Until you start walking towards the stairs. Boy's never moved so fast in his life. He knows if he wakes you up it's game over. So he gives you a gentle nudge back to your room.

Now after you find about the rat man in the walls, things are different. Brahms, even in the deepest REM cycle, will never let you go. Man is a koala and you are the tree he's clinging to for dear life. It's almost impossible to escape his arms at night.

Almost makes you sleep in the walls instead of the bedroom so you're safer. Like ain't no way you're getting out of those without him waking up.

Strangest thing he's seen you do: Sat up in bed, complaining about the maracas in your mouth??? He cried.

Billy Lenz 🎄

World's worst caretaker 👑

Especially before yall start dating because, at that point in time, he's still trying to decide if he wants to kill you. He won't lie, he very briefly thought about pushing you down the stairs.

But? After you win him over? Yeah still kinda sucks ass at keeping you from hurting yourself. He'll keep you alive, mind you, just a little worse for wear.

He asked you once if he could tie you down in bed. You didn't like the look in his eyes so you declined. Billy pouted for the next three days.

TBH he might do it anyways. Look he's just trying to keep your silly little self safe, S/O. Get your mind out of the gutter. Haha, jk...unless 😏?

The strangest thing he's seen you do is eat a entire bag of gummy bears while standing outside. He joined you.

Vincent Sinclair 🖌

Another prepared king 👑

His workshop is dangerous. Upstairs is dangerous. The whole town is health code violation. And bby cannot stand the idea of you hurting yourself.

But other then the constant anxiety that you'll some how end up falling off the stairs or falling into the wax or the any other number of things his brain comes up with, he's very level-headed.

Child safety locks. He buys that shit in bulk.

But hey, gives him a excuse to hold you at night. (Vincent, they're literally your s/o)

The strangest thing he's seen you do is stand over Bo's bed, chanting tomato. Bo almost cried.

Bo Sinclair 🔧

Definition of "Look at that idiot...oh wait that's my idiot!"

Honestly, probably the worst. Not like 'let's you just walk around' worst, but more like 'Imma gonna chain you to the bed' worst.

Dude's so scared of losing you, pretty much the best thing that ever happened to him, that his willing to go to drastic matters to keep you safe.

Don't try to explain the science behind it, you'll only give him a migraine. Just let him keep you safe. K, bby?

Bo's gonna lose sleep some nights, he's that scared. No doubt you will wake up to the feeling of someone watching you. Just comfort him, ok?

Strangest thing he's seen you do is sit up in bed and start singing 'Livin La Vida Loca'

Asa Emory 🪲

Number one prepared king™️

I'm not saying he may or may not, kinda sorta perhaps placed cameras around your living situation before you two even began dating. But yeah he did.

So he knows all about the crazy shenanigans you are up to at night.

He reads the books, watching online lectures 👏all👏the👏research. You can bet your sweet ass he knows exactly how to wake you up in case of emergency.

In the same breath, despite how much he does love you, science. Prepare to be studied like a bug under a microscope.

Strangest thing he's seen you do is standing with the refrigerator doors open, telling him how much you love this show.

Norman Bates 🚿

My poor sweet innocent murder bby. He doesn't know what to do.

Yeah, keep you safe, he's got that much down. But at what cost?

The hotel looks like a a daycare center now. Baby proofing everywhere (ask him about getting locked out of the bathroom, it's funny)

Suggested a collar once as a joke, wasn't expecting you to agree. Got flustered. Dropped his cup, maybe got a bone.

Another koala sleeper, so good luck escaping his embrace. Will go as far as following you to the bathroom to make sure you're actually awake.

Strangest thing he's seen you do is sit down in a fake potted plant in the living room and talk about dinosaurs.

[merrinla]

Davrin vs Lucanis cut content. Actually, some of it was rewritten, but most of it was cut.

I guess this is a previous version of the dialogue after Weisshaupt.

Davrin: My problem is you've got a demon in you. That's enough to lock you away. But you're also very good at killing people. Davrin: Combine the two, and I don't know how we let you anywhere near this team. Lucanis: Because it wasn't your decision. (?): Lay off, Davrin. It's not your place to interrogate him. (?): Rook made the call. Rook: All right, all right. That's enough. Davrin: No, it isn't. Davrin: If this demon gets out of hand we're all in trouble. Rook: I'm not worried about Lucanis. Davrin: But you should be…. (?): But you were worried, Rook. Rook: Well, I'm not now. Rook: Everyone deserves a chance. Rook: I stand by my decision. Lucanis and his demon will behave. Davrin: But how can you know that? What if Spite attacks Assan? Lucanis: He'd win. Davrin: What? If anything happens to Assan— Lucanis: The Venatori were better at it. Davrin: Yeah? Well they had your number real good. Lucanis: And what about you, Warden? Don't all your kind have the blood of darkspawn in your veins? Davrin: What do you know about that? Lucanis: Adamant Fortress. The Wardens must have told stories about it. Everyone else did. Lucanis: Prison warden… Grey Warden, what's the difference? Davrin: Let me get my blade and I'll show you— Rook: Careful there, Lucanis. I'm a Grey Warden too. option: Both of you work this out. Rook: You're adults. You can settle how to work together yourselves. option: Davrin is right. Rook: Obviously, having a demon in the Lighthouse is dangerous. We can't pretend otherwise. Lucanis: You're no longer glad I'm here? Rook: I am. But Davrin's not wrong. Lucanis: And I thought we were getting along. Rook: I still need to be careful. option: Lucanis is right. Rook: Every single person on this team is dangerous. Nice, safe, regular people don't fight ancient gods. (?): We're being careful. I'll be keeping an eye on Lucanis. (?): I'll be watching Lucanis. (?): Somebody has to. Lucanis: Such fine hospitality. Davrin: Just be grateful you're not back in the Ossuary.

The conversation with Varric after that.

Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other on sight. And I just ticked off Lucanis. Again. The minute he got back. Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other on sight, and now Lucanis is probably ticked at me. Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other instantly. And now Davrin's ticked off at me. Rook: Davrin and Lucanis hated each other on sight. And now they're both ticked at me. Varric: Don't panic. Things always seem impossible. Just fight one battle at a time. option: I need to find the enemy. Rook: I can't fight any battles right now, Varric. We have no targets. Rook: Don't give me sage advice. Give me a target. option: I need a plan, not platitudes. Rook: I know you're trying to help. Rook: I appreciate the effort, Varric, but that doesn't exactly help when we don't know where to go next. Varric: Look around you. You've got all these people. Experts in all sorts of things. Rook: I just told you, the team— Varric: No, no. That's the problem. You have people. Not a team. They don't know each other, and they don't know you. Varric: Work on getting to know them. The better you understand your people, the closer you get to having a team. Rook: Understanding won't make them work together. Varric: No, you have to do that. Which means they all have to trust you. Even if they hate each other. Rook: That's not going to work. Varric: It's worth a try. Rook: How? I've never led people like these before. Varric: Ordinarily, I'd say you should get them all into a game of Wicked Grace, but I think you'll have to work up to that. Varric: Start with Lucanis and Davrin. Something else must be eating at them, to get them at each other's throats. Rook: I guess it can't hurt. Varric: That's the spirit.

Another squabble.

(?): The trail's gone cold. (?): We don't have any leads. Rook: Hey, what's— Davrin: You're the Crow! You're supposed to have eyes and ears everywhere! Or maybe the only voice you hear is Spite's! Rook: I said, Hey! Lucanis: You're the Grey Warden, the "expert" on all this blight! You're supposed to have answers! Lucanis: Maybe you're spending too much time playing with your flying cat! Rook: So the two of you decide to tear into each other? Knock it off. Rook: That's not anyone's fault. We just haven't caught a break yet. Lucanis: Tell him that. You said it yourself, Rook: Davrin's the problem. Davrin: Tell him that. You said it yourself, Rook: Lucanis is the problem. Rook: Seriously! You need to take all this anger and use it against Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain! Davrin: I'd love nothing more. Just as soon as Lucanis and his Crows do anything to find them. Lucanis: We're waiting for you and your Wardens to remember your job is to… What is it again? Oh, yes—destroy the blight. Rook: You think it makes me happy? I'm pissed off, too Davrin: You should be pissed at him. You said it yourself, Rook: Lucanis is a problem. Lucanis: You should be pissed at him. You said it yourself, Rook: Davrin is a problem. Lucanis: You should be pissed at him. I tried to warn you. Davrin: I tried to warn you about him, Rook. Davrin: If you'd listened to me about him, we wouldn't have this problem. Lucanis: You said it yourself, Rook: Davrin is a problem. Davrin: You said it yourself, Rook, Lucanis is a problem. Rook: The way you two are going, I'd rather spend my time talking with Solas. Rook: I wouldn't mind a little break from reality right about now. Can you guys knock this off? Rook: I know you're both doing your best. That doesn't mean you have to like each other. Rook: But it does mean you have to stop the constant fighting. Okay? Rook: I'm not tolerating this. You're both professionals and I expect you to act like it. Understood? Davrin: I hear you, Rook. But as a professional my duty is to keep an eye on him and Spite. Lucanis: And with darkspawn blood running through your veins, I'll be watching you. Professionally.

[cripplecharacters]

How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special

[large text: How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special]

Today is the 13th of May, which means that the Face Equality Week has just started. This year's theme is “My Face is a Masterpiece” which is probably my favorite sentence ever said about having a facial difference. Huge fan, should be used way more often in my opinion.

Because of this occasion, I would like to share some thoughts about Face Equality that I think are rather entry-level, i.e. you don't need to know much to execute these, but you can still support us.

Stop the stare.

I know it's fun to stare - or so I guess, at least - but maybe you shouldn't. Next time you see someone who has a scar or who's face does not move the same way as yours, just mind your business. We can tell when you're “discreetly” looking.

Don't call us deformed. 

Knowing how the people you're trying to support actually call themselves should be an absolute first step, but most people still fail here. Most of us don't appreciate being called “deformed”. I certainly don't. Say “facial difference”, or “disfigurement” if you must. It's 2024. Leave “deformed” to medical reports from the 70s.

No more “What happened?!”s.

If you aren't a doctor, there's a high-to-100% chance that it's none of your business. It's cool that you're curious - keep it to yourself.

Stop insinuating that we are ugly.

“Support people who are ugly!” isn't very supportive. I would say, not in the slightest. Say “people who don't fit the current beauty standards” if that's what you mean. 

Or, to go with this year's theme, “people whose faces are masterpieces” : )

Use critical thinking online.

Is the reaction photo actually funny, or is it just a person with a craniofacial condition? Is the meme actually a meme, or is it just making fun of a person with a facial disfigurement? Is body-shaming suddenly hilarious to you when the person shamed has strabismus? 

If the entire punchline is “lol they have a disability xd”, it's ableism. Plain and simple.

To go with the point above - your joke is probably not funny.

We get it! You can't help telling us how "you're going to hell for laughing" (which yeah, probably) and how we remind you of the ugliest character you have ever seen. I guarantee you that we heard it, and that you are behaving like an edgy middle schooler who hasn't "found out" yet. It's boring and annoying. Also ableist, but you're aware of that already if you're saying that you're going to hell.

Stop with the goddamn trigger warnings. 

We aren't “body horror”, we aren't “gore”, we aren't something that you need to advise your viewers to use their discretion over. Every “graphic footage: child with neurofibromatosis” and “#tw burn scar” is a sign of ableism and disfiguremisia. People with facial differences deserve to be seen. Ableds can survive seeing a person without a nose.

Do a basic reading on what disfiguremisia is.

New word! And an important one. It's a brand of ableism that intersects with more or less everything, and it means discrimination and hatred of people with facial differences/disfigurements. The bullying, harassment, endless name-calling, and microaggressions are all results of disfiguremisia. The ways in which everything is harder for us isn't some unchangeable rule of how the world works, it's just an extremely prevalent type of discrimination.

Understand that we are people.

I know, revolutionary - and yet impossible for so many people to get. We can be a visual representation of evil when it's necessary, we can be a feel-good inspirational story on a morning talk-show, but not much else, it seems. In reality, we are complex, we have our own lives, we can be happy and sad and have the same exact joys and worries that you have.

Hey, artists - facial differences don't make you evil.

Title stolen from a great essay by Lise Deguire (link). When's the last time you saw a positive character with a facial difference that wasn't inspiration porn? I mean a character that's not edgy, full of angst, a murderer, or a villain. Based on what you see in the media, you'd think that having a scar renders you evil on the spot, but in reality it just makes you loathe how artists apparently think you are like. It's boring, it's overdone, it's ableism. Stop doing this, and start noticing when it's being done. Point it out if your friend is writing their new villain to be an evil burn survivor. This kind of portrayal needed to stop ages ago, but tomorrow will be a great time as well.

Before you reply with “I've never seen this” - Darth Vader, Lion King’s Scar (subtle name, great thing to teach kids!), Freddy Krueger, Voldemort, we could be here forever. You're just not paying attention.

Pay attention to where we are not included.

As discussed, there are some places where you see us all the time. But where do you not see us?

Advertisements (unless it's for a scar-removal cream, of course). Fashion shows. Magazine covers. Romance movies where we are the main character.

We deserve to see ourselves in what's around us in the same way able-bodied people do. Trying to make it seem like we don't exist - that's deliberate. 

Interact with our art.

We draw, write, sing, act in movies, we do everything. Support us in the most tangible way - leave us a nice comment, read our books, listen to our songs. Watch movies where actual people with facial differences star, not pseudoinspirational stories about how “being disfigured is ok” where they shove an able-bodied actor into a full face prosthetic just to not have an actor with a disfigurement on set.

Include us.

As this year's Face Equality Week calls for, include us. In art, in movies, in books, in your life. Show us as positive people who are valuable, who are a part of your community - I guarantee that we are in every one that's out there. The world is hostile and unwelcoming to people with facial differences - be the change, wherever you are.

I know that it is different from the usual posts I make, but I hope it was somewhat educational. I just like to use every occasion that I can to force Face Equality into people's heads. To make this at least a bit about writing to keep the blog's theme, I will say that if you want to write about us, you need to care about us in real life as well. Otherwise, it's pointless and, as representation, genuinely worthless.

Below the readmore are some links/resources that you can click to educate yourself further. A lot of them lead to Face Equality International because they have just about everything you should know. If you want to be a better ally to people with facial differences, I heavily recommend them.

#MyFaceIsAMasterpiece

mod Sasza

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/why-i-will-not-hide/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/disability-is-diversity/202111/hidden-community-the-movement-face-equality

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2022/05/facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/advertising-excludes-women-with-faces-like-mine/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/burn-community-bookshelf

https://faceequalityinternational.org/about-fei/international-face-equality-week/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/hidden-from-view-women-with-facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/i-dont-see-your-scars

Thanks for actually clicking the readmore

[yeyinde]

the therapist x Price ask has me thinking terrible things. but what if instead of helping him with anger management, you're his marriage counsellor.

With your colleague's early retirement on the horizon, you take over several of his files, and among them is Mr and Mrs Price. A marriage on the brink of collapse, he writes, but both are willing to work things out.

As if.

You're not one to pick sides—it's morally, professionally, and ethically wrong—but you really wish Mrs Price had better friends. Or someone in her life to pull her aside and tell her to run because as much as she seems to want to work at these issues that plague her marriage, it takes you only a handful of sessions to realise this is impossible.

And the reason is just—

John Price.

Unprofessional? Yes. Wrong? No.

Your colleague's notes about Mr Price being the driving force behind keeping the marriage intact seem almost farcical looking back because that seems to be the very last thing on his mind.

He goes into each session with the single-minded goal to tear through any progress made—and that's only when he shows up. And in this particular profession, you're used to combativeness. The guarded nature of people is a hurdle you can often overcome with logic and solutions to their problems, but Mr Price's walls have walls. His armour is thick, and impenetrable, and he's—at best—unwilling to participate in any meaningful way.

And at worst—he spends most of the session arguing with you. Needling over everything you say. Ignoring any attempts to steer the conversation back to the idea of salvaging his marriage in favour of riling you up. Disrupting the natural order of accountability and progress just to see you flustered. Asking personal questions. Coming in earlier just to nitpick your talking points. Letting his wife leave before he does, and using the time to go over his startling accolades like the thought of chasing her, taking her to dinner, didn't even cross his mind. A man with one foot out the door, and almost no interest in turning around.

He's bullish. Compromising. Stubborn—

"—and a pigheaded oaf of a man!" You seethe, ethics fleeing from the room as you dig yourself a spot on your boss's couch, and take hearty gulps of the Chardonnay he offered with a grim twist to his lips. "Every time we get close to the truth, to a breakthrough, he jumps ship! Pulls away! But then has the audacity to question me because his wife isn't changing her mind on the divorce? In what goddamn universe is this my fault?"

He clears his throat, looking more than a little bemused. "Uhh. Have you tried—"

"Talking to him one-on-one in a confrontation-free way to try and get him to open up? Yes! And he spent the whole session avoiding the issue and making redundant comments about me, my life! What do my future plans have to do with his marriage? My relationship status! If I want kids! It's absurd!"

"Interesting. And have you considered—"

"All of it! There's no getting through to him. I don't even think he really wants this marriage to work out which is so different from what the counsellor they had before told me. He was trying back then. Said he'd let her divorce him over his dead body, and now? Two decades down the drain. I just don't get it."

"Well." His brow lifts, and he seems almost worried for a second before he scoffs. Shakes his head. "I think I do. Good luck, hon. He seems like the sort of man who knows exactly what he wants."

It takes all of your willpower not to reach out and grab the whole bottle from the table. Professional, you think. And that's what John called you, isn't it? Well—

Smart little girl, aren't you? Is what he growled out, arms folded over his chest as you—indiscreetly—ushered him towards the door. "But you don't know what you're doing, love. Gonna get yourself in over your head—"

The little girl prickles over your nerves. There's something about him that makes you want to lash out.

"I can handle myself, John."

He leaned down, shoulders tense. Eyes blazing. This man, you realise, is all fire. All heat. You fight back a shiver, meeting his stare head-on.

"Oh, I hope you can."

A challenge, right? Maybe he's another misogynist in a choking, crowded sea too blinded by his own ego to admit that maybe you could help him if he let you. Pretentious, self-righteous prick—

It really doesn't surprise you when the dissolution of his marriage happens a week later. Irreconcilable differences. Go figure. But what does surprise you is finding John Price standing outside your office only several days after the contractual obligations you had with them end.

The sight of him, stripped of any professional distance, makes you tense. "If you're here to complain, you'll need to file a—"

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. The signs were there from the onset. Mrs Price's frigid anger at the end, and John's interest in you beyond the therapist. But when he pushes you against the door of your office, pulling you into a searing, demanding kiss that siphons the air from your lungs, all you can think is huh? and when did this—?

He doesn't really give you much of a chance to say any of that, though. Just devours you whole like he's been waiting his entire life for this moment, hands biting into your flesh, gripping tight. Refusing to let go even for a second. Even to let you breathe. Just grunts into the lax seam of your mouth about how much a goddamn little tease you are, tempting him like that when he was still a married man.

"But you can handle me, can't you, sweetheart?" He rumbles, fingers rasping over the skin of your nape. "Said so yourself, didn't you? Actin' all naughty even when you were pantin' at me like a bitch in heat. But don't worry, I'll make an honest woman outta you yet."

"Um—"

(maybe you were, in fact, a little over your head with John Price.)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Antiusurpation and the road to disenshittification

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Nineties kids had a good reason to be excited about the internet's promise of disintermediation: the gatekeepers who controlled our access to culture, politics, and opportunity were crooked as hell, and besides, they sucked.

For a second there, we really did get a lot of disintermediation, which created a big, weird, diverse pluralistic space for all kinds of voices, ideas, identities, hobbies, businesses and movements. Lots of these were either deeply objectionable or really stupid, or both, but there was also so much cool stuff on the old, good internet.

Then, after about ten seconds of sheer joy, we got all-new gatekeepers, who were at least as bad, and even more powerful, than the old ones. The net became Tom Eastman's "Five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four." Culture, politics, finance, news, and especially power have been gathered into the hands of unaccountable, greedy, and often cruel intermediaries.

Oh, also, we had an election.

This isn't an election post. I have many thoughts about the election, but they're still these big, unformed blobs of anger, fear and sorrow. Experience teaches me that the only way to get past this is to just let all that bad stuff sit for a while and offgas its most noxious compounds, so that I can handle it safely and figure out what to do with it.

While I wait that out, I'm just getting the job done. Chop wood, carry water. I've got a book to write, Enshittification, for Farar, Straus, Giroux's MCD Books, and it's very nearly done:

https://twitter.com/search?q=from%3Adoctorow+%23dailywords&src=typed_query&f=live

Compartmentalizing my anxieties and plowing that energy into productive work isn't necessarily the healthiest coping strategy, but it's not the worst, either. It's how I wrote nine books during the covid lockdowns.

And sometimes, when you're not staring directly at something, you get past the tunnel vision that makes it impossible to see its edges, fracture lines, and weak points.

So I'm working on the book. It's a book about platforms, because enshittification is a phenomenon that is most visible and toxic on platforms. Platforms are intermediaries, who connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, workers and employers, politicians and voters, activists and crowds, as well as families, communities, and would-be romantic partners.

There's a reason we keep reinventing these intermediaries: they're useful. Like, it's technically possible for a writer to also be their own editor, printer, distributor, promoter and sales-force:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

But without middlemen, those are the only writers we'll get. The set of all writers who have something to say that I want to read is much larger than the set of all writers who are capable of running their own publishing operation.

The problem isn't middlemen: the problem is powerful middlemen. When an intermediary gets powerful enough to usurp the relationship between the parties on either side of the transaction, everything turns to shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

A dating service that faces pressure from competition, regulation, interoperability and a committed workforce will try as hard as it can to help you find Your Person. A dating service that buys up all its competitors, cows its workforce, captures its regulators and harnesses IP law to block interoperators will redesign its service so that you keep paying forever, and never find love:

https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2024/02/13/1228749143/the-dating-app-paradox-why-dating-apps-may-be-worse-than-ever

Multiply this a millionfold, in every sector of our complex, high-tech world where we necessarily rely on skilled intermediaries to handle technical aspects of our lives that we can't – or shouldn't – manage ourselves. That world is beholden to predators who screw us and screw us and screw us, jacking up our rents:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/yes-there-are-antitrust-voters-in

Cranking up the price of food:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

And everything else:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

(Maybe this is a post about the election after all?)

The difference between a helpmeet and a parasite is power. If we want to enjoy the benefits of intermediaries without the risks, we need policies that keep middlemen weak. That's the opposite of the system we have now.

Take interoperability and IP law. Interoperability (basically, plugging new things into existing things) is a really powerful check against powerful middlemen. If you rely on an ad-exchange to fund your newsgathering and they start ripping you off, then an interoperable system that lets you use a different exchange will not only end the rip off – it'll make it less likely to happen in the first place because the ad-tech platform will be afraid of losing your business:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech

Interoperability means that when a printer company gouges you on ink, you can buy cheap third party ink cartridges and escape their grasp forever:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Interoperability means that when Amazon rips off audiobook authors to the tune of $100m, those authors can pull their books from Amazon and sell them elsewhere and know that their listeners can move their libraries over to a different app:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/07/audible-exclusive/#audiblegate

But interoperability has been in retreat for 40 years, as IP law has expanded to criminalize otherwise normal activities, so that middlemen can use IP rights to protect themselves from their end-users and business customers:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

That's what I mean when I say that "IP" is "any law that lets a business reach beyond its own walls and control the actions of its customers, competitors and critics."

For example, there's a pernicious law 1998 US law that I write about all the time, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the "anticircumvention law." This is a law that felonizes tampering with copyright locks, even if you are the creator of the undelying work.

So Amazon – the owner of the monopoly audiobook platform Audible – puts a mandatory copyright lock around every audiobook they sell. I, as an author who writes, finances and narrates the audiobook, can't provide you, my customer, with a tool to remove that lock. If I do so, I face criminal sanctions: a five year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine for a first offense:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

In other words: if I let you take my own copyrighted work out of Amazon's app, I commit a felony, with penalties that are far stiffer than the penalties you would face if you were to simply pirate that audiobook. The penalties for you shoplifting the audiobook on CD at a truck-stop are lower than the penalties the author and publisher of the book would face if they simply gave you a tool to de-Amazon the file. Indeed, even if you hijacked the truck that delivered the CDs, you'd probably be looking at a shorter sentence.

This is a law that is purpose-built to encourage intermediaries to usurp the relationship between buyers and sellers, creators and audiences. It's a charter for parasitism and predation.

But as bad as that is, there's another aspect of DMCA 1201 that's even worse: the exemptions process.

You might have read recently about the Copyright Office "freeing the McFlurry" by granting a DMCA 1201 exemption for companies that want to reverse-engineer the error-codes from McDonald's finicky, unreliable frozen custard machines:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/28/mcbroken/#my-milkshake-brings-all-the-lawyers-to-the-yard

Under DMCA 1201, the Copyright Office hears petitions for these exemptions every three years. If they judge that anticircumvention law is interfering with some legitimate activity, the statute empowers them to grant an exemption.

When the DMCA passed in 1998 (and when the US Trade Rep pressured other world governments into passing nearly identical laws in the decades that followed), this exemptions process was billed as a "pressure valve" that would prevent abuses of anticircumvention law.

But this was a cynical trick. The way the law is structured, the Copyright Office can only grant "use" exemptions, but not "tools" exemptions. So if you are granted the right to move Audible audiobooks into a third-party app, you are personally required to figure out how to do that. You have to dump the machine code of the Audible app, decompile it, scan it for vulnerabilities, and bootstrap your own jailbreaking program to take Audible wrapper off the file.

No one is allowed to help you with this. You aren't allowed to discuss any of this publicly, or share a tool that you make with anyone else. Doing any of this is a potential felony.

In other words, DMCA 1201 gives intermediaries power over you, but bans you from asking an intermediary to help you escape another abusive middleman.

This is the exact opposite of how intermediary law should work. We should have rules that ban intermediaries from exercising undue power over the parties they serve, and we should have rules empowering intermediaries to erode the advantage of powerful intermediaries.

The fact that the Copyright Office grants you an exemption to anticircumvention law means nothing unless you can delegate that right to an intermediary who can exercise it on your behalf.

A world without publishing intermediaries is one in which the only writers who thrive are the ones capable of being publishers, too, and that's a tiny fraction of all the writers with something to say.

A world without interoperability intermediaries is one in which the only platform users who thrive are also skilled reverse-engineering ninja hackers – and that's an infinitesimal fraction of the platform users who would benefit from interoperabilty.

Let this be your north star in evaluating platform regulation proposals. Platform regulation should weaken intermediaries' powers over their users, and strengthen their power over other middlemen.

Put in this light, it's easy to see why the ill-informed calls to abolish Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (which makes platform users, not platforms, responsible for most unlawful speech) are so misguided:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

If we require platforms to surveil all user speech and block anything that might violate any law, we give the largest, most powerful platforms a permanent advantage over smaller, better platforms, run by co-ops, hobbyists, nonprofits local governments, and startups. The big platforms have the capital to rig up massive, automated surveillance and censorship systems, and the only alternatives that can spring up have to be just as big and powerful as the Big Tech platforms we're so desperate to escape:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/23/evacuate-the-platforms/#let-the-platforms-burn

This is especially grave given the current political current, where fascist politicians are threatening platforms with brutal punishments for failing to censor disfavored political views.

Anyone who tells you that "it's only censorship when the government does it" is badly confused. It's only a First Amendment violation when the government does it, sure – but censorship has always relied on intermediaries. From the Inquisition to the Comics Code, government censors were only able to do their jobs because powerful middlemen, fearing state punishments, blocked anything that might cross the line, censoring far beyond the material actually prohibited by the law:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

We live in a world of powerful, corrupt middlemen. From payments to real-estate, from job-search to romance, there's a legion of parasites masquerading as helpmeets, burying their greedy mouthparts into our tender flesh:

https://www.capitalisnt.com/episodes/visas-hidden-tax-on-americans

But intermediaries aren't the problem. You shouldn't have to stand up your own payment processor, or learn the ins and outs of real-estate law, or start your own single's bar. The problem is power, not intermediation.

As we set out to build a new, good internet (with a lot less help from the US government than seemed likely as recently as last week), let's remember that lesson: the point isn't disintermediation, it's weak intermediation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/07/usurpers-helpmeets/#disreintermediation

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en (Image: Cryteria, CC BY 3.0, modified)

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I am massively busy with work and finalizing my Big Bang, but this idea just won't leave...

Steve and Eddie are both actors. They're in their mid thirties, well established, but they never starred together in anything. Steve tends to be cast in the same type, the dumb but pretty love interest, Eddie has lots of indie and disturbing movies under his belt. But this time, they both landed something big.

They get cast in the new Batman movie.

Steve is, of course, Batman. He insists on doing his own stunts. He refuses to get dehydrated for his shirtless scenes because he knows how damaging it is to both young men and women alike, he's not going to contribute to shitty expectations. The director (Dustin, duh!) sees something in him other directors never have - a potential for depth, for internal turmoil. He gives Steve the chance to prove himself as an actor and Steve pounces on it.

He's still very hot.

Eddie is cast as the Joker. He is a fan of the comics and scoffs at how absurd and deranged the character is becoming. He gets hired because he immediately says he doesn't think the character needs to rely on cheap tricks and shock value to be terrifying. Cutting off his face? Not cool. He suggests to play the Joker according to one of the older comics he has - one where the Joker is actually absolutely sane, but hides it to never be held accountable for his actions. The only person who ever saw through his ruse was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Joker took care of that issue very quickly.

The chemistry between Steve and Eddie on screen is insane. They go toe to toe, it's impossible to look away when they interact. Eddie utilizes his bright smile to the maximum, tweaking it just right within moments so it becomes unsettling. The first time he laughs, Steve gets goosebumps.

Steve encompasses Bruce's loneliness so well Eddie's heart breaks for him. Dustin finds him in the trailer, giving himself gentle slaps over the face and muttering "you're evil, damn it, you don't want to comfort the Bat!!".

Batgirl (Robin) and Harley Quinn (Chrissy) find their slow descent into love hilarious. They all become good friends on the set.

Hopper, an acting veteran who plays Commissioner Gordon, grasps Steve's shoulder after an intense fight scene and mutters: "Good job, Steve, but maybe don't stare at his lips so much?"

Robin doesn't give him the same courtesy and once Dustin yells "Cut!", she screeches: "NOW KISS!"

The movie is a hit. People love the cast and the story, some of the OG fans complain as they always do, but the ratings are great, there are many interviews, panels, all of that.

And of course, there's gossip about Steve and Eddie being a thing, which enrages the macho Batman fanbase. Their Batman isn't gay!

But the rumors quickly disappear after an award ceremony where Eddie is nominated for the best supporting actor. He wins, of course. And as he gets up to accept the small statue and deliver a speech with enough "fuck"s to give the censor a headache, he drags Steve up and kisses him in front of the whole world.

A week later, Steve and Eddie are together in front of a camera again, answering questions in an interview.

The host asks: "What do you say to those fans that are disappointed, who say that their Batman isn't gay?"

Steve just snorts, pulls Eddie closer and answers: "They're right. Their Batman isn't gay. But he's definitely bi."

Also the comic story I'm mentioning exits and is short but fantastic. 10/10 recommend.

Oh also. The first spark happens when Steve sees Eddie's hair and blurts out: "Please tell me they're not making you cut it shorter. It's too gorgeous for that."

Also because people were asking about the comics - it's Batman Black and White - Case Study and it can be found on Tumblr HERE

[brionysea]

when it comes to the umbrella academy, a lot of people seem to think that the first half is great and the second half is terrible. personally, I think only the first *season* is great, or even good. here's why:

the mission statement at the end of season 1 is fixing viktor, but viktor isn't the only broken one, so you can infer that they're all going to have to fix *each other* - as a family, the one thing their abuser never let them be. and the world's burning down around them because of the most dramatic sibling confrontation to ever grace the earth, but they're holding hands and escaping together and surviving the impossible with the intent to move forward, even if that means momentarily moving backwards. it's a masterful allegory for finally growing up, accepting responsibility for your personal trauma and tragedy and how they shaped you, and the moment you take that power back by choosing to heal your inner child, only after being slapped in the face with the fact that if you don't, it *will* destroy everything you've ever built, ever cared about, and ever could.

and then the rest of the show forgets all of it. as it were, it goes in the *exact opposite direction.*

on the surface, the second season isn't *as* bad as the subsequent ones are. but season 3 and 4's faults can be traced back to season 2 by how it pivoted away from the serious subject matter that the story (not the plot - the *story*) was heavily baked in, leaning hard into the goofier elements instead, without ever understanding the contrast that those conflicting elements served to highlight. it made them both more powerful; the jokes were funnier because you were just devastated, and the trauma was more devastating because you were just in tears laughing. the emotional roller coaster is key to understanding these people, and you *have* to take the serious stuff seriously for it to work. at least half of the show doesn't, and as a result, the emotional moments feel hollow.

controversial opinion: as a character, luther is better in season 1 than he is anywhere else. he's more unlikable, but that's because he's implicitly there to show what *not* to do - even if he'd succeeded narratively by locking viktor up and saving the world, he still failed thematically by emulating their father and continuing the cycle of abuse - so luther's a character that's being very effectively used to add to the core theme of the story. he feels like a real, frustrating person, whose brain chemistry got messed up by years of abuse and isolation, all for the crime of thinking his father loved him and wanted the best for him. not like a made up guy on your screen doing silly stuff solely for your entertainment.

season 2 was also the start of the characters getting love interests instead of storylines, which season 1 never would have *dreamed* of; klaus and dave's tragic romance only served to further klaus's character arc, viktor's creepy boyfriend was actually manipulating him the whole time, five's fractured-psyche-mannequin was a narrative tool to let us see into the head of such an emotionally reticent character, and so on. the romance served the character, but fairly quickly into the show's progression, it felt like the character started serving the romance. five was immune to this curse for a long time due to aidan gallagher's age, which is why he's (for the most part) the best, most consistent character across the show, because they had to use their *imagination* for him and actually *write an arc* instead of falling back on tired romance tropes that any selection of characters could slot into to fill the dead space.

after season 1, the umbrella academy is entertaining, but it doesn't have anything to *say.* which is extremely disappointing when the show initially made such a strong case for what it wanted to be.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

"Appropriate" responses to the Gaiman issue

TLDR: This isn't a Rowling situation, be wary of internalized purity culture.

He's a predator. I'm glad a proper journalist followed up where police have failed (and possibly given victims a better footing for future charges).

But I have a problem with the knee-jerk responses targeting the fandom.

Just to clarify, I'm not talking about insulting The Predator. This is about how you treat people who have/do/will enjoy the stories that unfortunately came into the world through his keyboard.

Fans aren't intrinsically evil/uncaring for continuing to participate in associated fandoms.

This is not another Rowling situation. Why? Let me clarify. The consequences of consumption are very different. Rowling is ACTIVELY using her popularity and income as a creative to target one of the most vulnerable minorities in the world. Buying official merch/books/movie tickets prove to the powers that be that she remains a good investment, so they'll give her even more money. This perpetuates the cycle - new movie/book deals, more income, more hate, rinse and repeat.

The push to avoid Rowling's work in full is driven by the fact that she has FACED NO CONSEQUENCES and is still powered by her creative properties. It's fandom/consumers trying to bring justice.

Gaiman, on the other hand, knew he was doing bad shit on some level because he kept his abuse hidden. His status and reputation let him get close to vulnerable fans and essentially intimidate authorities from going after a celebrity. He is FACING CONSEQUENCES. I would personally like to see criminal charges brought against him, but that's out of the fandom's hands. Things we could've influenced (his Disney deal appears to have gone to shit, he's been booted from the truncated final season of GO, and there's no news on Sandman 3) are already in motion. If his publisher doesn't drop him, I'd say avoiding his future works is beyond valid (I certainly wouldn't buy them). But I'm going to watch the new season of Sandman. And once I've taken time away, I'll probably finish my active fics.

"Judging" people who still enjoy his work stems from good intentions that grew out of the fetid ground of purity culture rhetoric.

Writing fanfic and enjoying shows that are already made do not make people soulless accomplices. The idea that unproblematic stories by saintly creators are the only things you're allowed to enjoy is not only flirting with censorship, but it's also impossible.

If you think people should have nothing to do with Gaiman's works, you better throw out anything Weinstein touched. That includes Jackson's LOTR trilogy, FYI. Also, anything his company officially produced (which still gives him money in some cases) should never, ever grace your screen. That includes some of the better Stephen King adaptations, The Orphanage (which was a breakthrough Spanish-language film in Western markets), The King's Speech, The Imitation Game, Woman in Gold, Paddington, and It Follows.

If you aren't willing to publicly announce your "disappointment" in anyone who continues to enjoy any of those films, then kicking up a fuss over how other people process and interact with problematic content from a fallen celebrity who is in the process of getting his dues is pure hypocrisy.

Personally, I'm maliciously complying with Gaiman's famous quote about how once a story is out there, it doesn't belong to the author anymore. Well said, Predator, these are mine now, and I shall fuck about with them as I see fit.

Attacking or snobbishly looking down your nose at the fandom also erases YEARS of beautiful critique and thoughtful exploration of existing, acknowledged problems in works like The Sandman.

People in these parts already know how to handle complex issues in complex pieces of media. Gaiman isn't our god. His canon is not our bible. He didn't teach us morality, as is apparently the case for a lot of people who grew up reading Rowling's works as a child.

If you have a problem with the censorship comment I made, I'd like to point out at least one writer friend is LEANING INTO the fandom as a way to process their own trauma. Suffice it to say they survived a very similar situation. They see it as empowering to take the stories away from the abuser and use the characters/settings to make something new.

I get the ick. I have it right now. But I'm not burning every copy of his work I own (full disclosure I have... *checks shelves* a copy of Neverwhere and The Sandman series). Doing so is totally valid, and if that helps you process and feel better - go for it!

But this is not the same as Rowling and the only ones you hurt by declaring your "judgement" is a complex group of individuals who are able to enjoy fiction, remain aware of potential social consequences, and found a place that doesn't align with your black/white morality.

With that said, judge away! I better not see any stories from Charles Dickens, anything in anyway associated with the Weinsteins, Nickelodeon shows, Charlie Chaplin references, or Francis Ford Coppola films touch your feed. If you scratch the surface, you'll find more things to judge others for enjoying, and they will inevitably find something to judge you for, too.