the ghost family

Y’all seriously need to learn to fact check things you see on here.

1.) it wasn’t Disney who turned down Coco but DREAMWORKS. 
and to those who STILL erroneously insist that Disney/Pixar turned down The Book of Life

2.) People getting mad at this:

Marigolds are traditional to our culture as well as to the holiday, ESPECIALLY in petal form. Not the best example but that’s like getting mad at different Christmas movies for using mistletoe.

3.) “Oh it’s the same plot.” Has anyone looked up the plot for this movie other than outright bashing it from the trailer? 
“The footage, raw though it may be, spun a compelling story about Miguel, a sweet kid who loves music despite the fact that his abuelita banned music long ago, thanks to an ancient drama involving Miguel’s great-great-grandfather—a dashing musician—who walked out on the family. That musician, Miguel discovers at the start of the film, is his town’s most famous son: deceased film star and music supernova Ernesto de la Cruz. On the eve of Día de Muertos, Miguel breaks into de la Cruz’s mausoleum in order to borrow the famous skull guitar that hangs there so that he can enter a talent competition and convince his family to embrace music again. Once Miguel touches the guitar, he becomes something of a living ghost. His family can no longer see him, but Miguel can now see all of his dead ancestors—who look like fantastically decorative skeletons—crossing over a bright bridge made of marigold flower petals from the Land of the Dead. Looking for help and answers, Miguel travels to the Land of the Dead—a dazzlingly vibrant, stacked metropolis inspired by the Mexican city of Guanajuato—himself and sets off an adventure with trickster skeletal companion Hector to find the rest of his family, de la Cruz, and the answer to how he can fix this curse.”  
You know how insistent Pixar is on always making original films. So don’t you think that they would continue that?

4.) “But the white director who thinks he knows everything because he’s been to Mexico.” That’s right, a white person who is not of Mexican/Latinx culture can not truly KNOW our culture simply by visiting it. And Lee Unkrich knows this fact. Which why he assembled a group for the sake of making sure the movie is culturally accurate, rather than him taking on that role

you know, a team of actual latinx. Including someone who was a huge critic of Coco, and is a critic of Disney, Lalo Alcaraz. He is most famously known for his response to the action of Disney attempting to trademark Dia de los Meurtos (which will be our next point). It’s not Alcaraz selling out. It’s him working together with the movie so it’s not just Disney trying to bring in more Latinx fans but rather creating what Unkrich’s true mission: “a love letter to Mexico.” This team along with many other Latinx creatives (like Adrian Molina who was originally just a writer and then promoted to co-director) and a fully latinx cast (again, as insisted by Unkrich), are working together to make it a Latinx piece of media. ( )

5.) We all know and got rightfully angry at Disney for attempting to trademark Dia de los Muertos. This was due to the similar original name the movie had. As expected, it received intense backlash to which Disney quickly revoked the request to trademark. Unkrich was the first to vocalize that this was a mistake. This even leading to that point most likely has to do with him being a white man not of our culture, but this humbling experience is what really knocked that message into him and he began recruiting people like the ones in the above point to make sure that the movie itself is true to the people, culture, and holiday, in ways he himself could never fully grasp.

6.) It’s about the Day of the Dead like The Book of Life. My response to this is easy: look at how many movies are there about Christmas, Halloween, Easter, Valentine’s day, Saint Patrick’s day, etc.

7.) Gutierrez himself doesn’t want it to be a competition but as two wonderful films about one aspect of Latinx that will hopefully lead to more in the future.

I love The Book of Life, and is one of my favorite movies if I’m being honest. When it first came out I was filled with such pride and joy for many reasons. One of course for it being a gorgeously rendered film, but for it being such a positive and beautiful representation and celebration of Mexico. As someone who grew up only seeing white main characters, with people like my family and I as only side characters, it brings me such joy to see more media being produced in which Mexicans are the focus along with our culture (which is agreeably much more diverse than what is being tapped into). We still got a long way to go as Mexico is still only one group of Latinx culture, but we are witnessing the stepping stones of Hollywood beginning to reach out and representing this community by working with people of those cultures. The Book of Life will always have a special place in my heart, but I’m not letting my love of that movie keep me from supporting Latinx creators that are putting out Coco. I’m finally getting the representation that I craved as a kid and loving it.

petrichordiak  asked:

can i hear more about the class you hijacked? (this doesnt have to be private)

I actually got out of bed just so I could go full rant about this on my  computer, so y’all buckle up (thank you for giving me this opportunity lololol)

Okay, so this happened about a year, maybe a year and a half ago. I’m gonna go ahead and make this one public for the benefit of those that didn’t follow me back then, if that’s cool.

Let me preface this by saying that I had taken literally every one of the professor’s classes before then. Partly because they were the only anthropology style class the uni offered, and partly because halfway through the second class I realized that literally everything was the same, except the books, which we never used. Even the assignments were the same, and I had perfected a system of how to do those quickly, easily, and last-minute, lol. So it was pretty much the definition of an easy A, and the prof liked me bc I was nice, actually listened to her even though I’d heard it all before, and didn’t rat her ass out for not actually teaching what she was supposed to, lol.

I should’ve known right there.

So when there was an opportunity to take a Native Americans in North America class with her, I jumped on it. I needed the hours, I obviously knew a lot on the subject already, and it would be another easy a, if history was anything to go by. 

It became one of the most frustrating classes I have ever taken.

As always, the class started the same as the others. We started out learning about vocab and models. NBD, we’d get to specifics eventually, right?

Now there are about 16 to 18 weeks in your average semester.

By week 6 we had yet to learn anything about Native history. She’d assigned some reading about the moundbuilder’s archeological sites, but nothing about the modern day. Maybe she was just taking it slow, I thought, though I was bothered by her only talking about Natives in the past tense. But she’d told me in the first class I’d taken with her (years ago by now) that she was enrolled Native, so I didn’t call it out immediately. 

We get to week 8, halfway through the semester, she hadn’t covered anything. No mention of treaties, modern movements for civil rights, AIM (American Indian Movement), the illegal overthrow of Hawai’i, buffalo kill offs, smallpox blankets, Chicago museum’s bullshit, NAGPRA (a law protecting grave sites and demanding the return of remains to their Nation by museums and sites, if the Nation will accept them (sometimes they allow the remains to be housed by the museum bc they’re typically more secure there, but that’s very rare)) beyond how it affected archeologists, the different regions, the language families, ghost dance, the flooding of lands by companies illegally, human zoos, RESIDENTIAL SCHOOLS, THE FUCKING TRAIL OF TEARS, NOTHING.

Like your 4th grade history segment, as racist as it probably was, probably was more informative than this bitch was being, okay? And I was getting mad. Y’all know me. Native activism is a huge part of my life, and has been for years. Students were being allowed to say really racist shit unchecked. The prof wasn’t teaching jack. Misinformation was being spread, even by the prof.

It felt like even in a class dedicated to us, we didn’t matter. Our history didn’t matter. 

I was fed up.

Then, she pissed me the absolute fuck off. She proceeded to spend the rest of the class talking about South America.

Now, our Indigenous family below the equator absolutely deserve to be discussed. They have so many issues that really, really need to be boosted and respected. We do not raise their voices often enough. But this was a class specifically about North America, and her reasoning for making it otherwise was racist in so many ways.

First, she changed the curriculum outside of its scope because she was “MORE INTERESTED IN SOUTH AMERICA, AND WOULD HAVE TO DO RESEARCH TO TALK ABOUT” the issues I was publicly demanding to know when she would cover. As if her personal interest and ignorance were more important than our lives. 

(side note, it turns out she was lying about being enrolled and Native. Her white supremacist brother (not even kidding) had said that a Cherokee woman chief in Minnesota or some shit had enrolled them. I asked her if she meant Wilma Mankiller, the first modern female Cherokee chief. She said no, it was someone else, and in the late nineties, after Wilma would’ve no longer been Chief. I publicly called her out, and even another student jumped in to help, because there was no other woman Chief then, and there was no recognized Nation that far North. Her white supremacist brother had lied bc he felt othered while working near the Din’e on a job site, bc they didn’t include his racist ass, lol. So she’d lied her way into being allowed to teach a class she didn’t even know or care about. So at this point, I was fucking done with her, lol)

She also was showing us old propaganda films, and literally every group she discussed was being painted as ignorant, warlike savages by her and the materials. She even defended a man that intentionally exposed Indigenous peoples with no immunity to certain diseases to said diseases ‘just to see what would happen.’ She recommended his books, including ‘Noble Savages’ to us. I shouldn’t have to explain why that’s racist, lmao.

All of this is to say that I was VERY fed up, she (and the class) was VERY racist, and she was going down.

Then her foolish self decided to assign a massive project where we were supposed to ‘teach the class’ about a Native subject (y i k e s, esp. since the class was full of non-Natives). Since I was Fed Up, I decided to skip the usual schooling on cultural appropriation to instead teach everyone (including her) about just a smattering of the important things she hadn’t even mentioned in passing. :)

What followed was a 33 page powerpoint.

Apologies for any inaccuracies, and blanket tw for slurs, racism, death, csa, torture, child abuse, etc etc etc

(I added all the regalia pics bc they made me happy and calmed me down, which I was gonna need. I set the presentation up as “Man, I sure had trouble deciding what to make my presentation about. Should I talk about X? Y? Z? This? That? This? And so on until I reached residential schools and Reconciliation as my discussion topic.)

I hope those gifs work. If not, they should be under my “Oka Crisis” tag, or “n i fn a history” and “n i fn a protests” tags. I also had decided early to use the Nations actual names where possible.

Oh look, a quick and easy way to make people realize THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T FUCKING REFER TO US AS SLURS, and here’s how to discuss the issue without being additionally harmful.



Getting progressively angrier at this point. The class is smart enough to stay silent.

#MMIW #NoMoreStolenSisters. Please bring them home. Whatever it takes.

Stayed on this slide juuust long enough to stare each person in class down.

Oh look, we’re finally hitting my actual topic. Again, shit’s about to get very heavy. Please read only if you can. I will not be glancing over these to check them rn, bc I can’t. I’m sharing just for y’all to see, and hopefully reblog to educate people.

I honestly wept as I worked on this part. I can’t read it again.

Calling it out.

AYUP. Canadians are so nice and their government isn’t problematic at all

There are survivors that are my age, and younger.

Not letting them forget that this isn’t just in the past. It still wounds us.

It still hurts. We’re still recovering.

I included resources for them, including the prof, to actually educate themselves, since our school sure as shit wasn’t going to do it.

A handful of my sources.

Anyways. I was done. So fucking done. She (the prof) still tried to guide the class back and pretend that it was acceptable that she hadn’t taught them anything. I didn’t let her. I reminded them all that the only reason that this was Canada focused was bc they’d just had the Truth and Reconciliation reports, whereas the US government hasn’t put any effort into assembling data on their atrocities. Go figure.

Anyways, happy #Canada150 everybody :)

OK to reblog.

Explain a Halloween musical plot badly

Phantom of the Opera: man stalks girl and kills her enemies, girl is understandably hesitant to go out with him

Into the Woods: and they all lived happily ever after…SIKE it goes to shit

Sweeney Todd: cronching them humans: human edition

Ghost Quartet: trust me there’s a reason all the characters sound the same

Little Shop of Horrors: cronching them humans: plant edition

Rocky Horror Show: alien drag queen slays, figuratively and literally

Dracula: cronching them humans: vampire edition

Jekyll and Hyde: yin and yang should be accepted and left alone ok


Young Frankenstein: (grand)daddy issues- oh hey, i created life

Evil Dead: rocky horror and friday the thirteenth in one

Hadestown: greek mythology but industrial

Jasper in Deadland: greek mythology but modern

Addams Family: goth girl dates a prep, goth family is disappointed

American Psycho: man kills everyone he knows, gets away with it cuz he’s rich

Wicked: so what if the wicked witch of the west was relatable and belted really high

Add More!

Days until... July 31st 2017

September 🍃🍂 32
Autumn 🍂🍁54
October 🦇👻62
Halloween 🎃 🕸️👻92
November 🎄 93
Thanksgiving 🦃115
Black Friday 🏷️💳116
December 🎄❄️🦌123
Winter ❄ 🦌🐧🌨️🌧️🌬️144
Christmas Eve 🤶🎅🦌🎄146
Christmas day 🎁🎄147

Story prompt idea:

An old man comes into a supernatural bar and sits next to a vampire—not knowing that the supernatural is a thing—and orders “what they’re having,” not realizing the bloody Mary isn’t the bloody Mary he thinks it is. When he takes a drink, he gags because ew gross. Everyone at the bar flips their shit because there’s a human in their territory and they’re all horrified that he isn’t a vampire and just drank blood from some poor woman named Mary and holy shit a human has discovered us.
And this guy, while grossed out because that’s the worst bloody Mary he’s ever had, is some old ‘Nam vet and has seen some shit in his day so so what? Supernatural is a thing. Y'all didn’t see what he did when the guys got bored and tried to make up games to keep their minds off of the hell they were in, or the cruelty of man when people looked the other way in war.
So, these supernatural beings decide that they’re totally adopting this human as an honorary supernatural being and that he must be protected at all costs. The old lady witches knit him blankets and sweaters with protective spells and bake him cakes with potions mixed in for his arthritis. The vampires help him sleep at night when the nightmares start, lulling him back into a state of calm with their hypnotic abilities. The werewolves keep him company on the nights of full moons—or in the winter—by curling up in a big cuddle pile on the couch to keep him warm and bring a smile to his face. The children with black eyes pretend he’s the grandpa they never had and make him crafts for grandparents’ day, fathers’ day, his birthday, and Christmas—with the occasional random gift of whatever they find and he has a China cabinet that he converted into Proud Grandpa Display Case™ to house them all. The ghosts and zombies keep the vandalizing teenagers away from his house. The fae and gnomes tend to a garden they made him to rest in in his backyard. The satyrs play music with him when he fiddles or whittle wood or make model boats with him for father/sons/daughters bonding time. And if any of these people get married, they ask him to escort them down the aisle like a dad would for his daughter.
And his human family doesn’t really pay much attention to him. He hasn’t been totally forgotten by his family, but they’re never there and rarely visit him because of the distance, and it breaks his heart, but if these strange people want to pretend to be his family, dammit, he’s going to treat them with the upmost respect and love like any good Grandpa would. He’ll spoil them rotten with sweets and playing horseshoe with them—because they’ve never heard of that game and are fascinated, but he has to get horseshoes that aren’t iron for the safety of some of them.
And when he dies, they’re broken hearted of course, but he loves them enough to stick around, so ghost grandpa is born and everyone celebrates his Death Day and welcome him officially into the Family™.
But yeah, this idea popped into my head and I wanted to share it with you guys. That Grandma and her demon “grandson” post sort of inspired this, though I don’t have a link at the moment to it.


This is my final and fourth year film at CalArts!!  "Family Spirit" is about a family of ghosts that sit down for dinner only to realize there is another unwelcome presence at the end of the table.

Enjoy!! :) 

I’ve said this before but I feel pretty alienated by the individualistic “I love myself so much that I don’t need anyone else!” vibe that I see lots of people partaking in, including some of my friends. It’s easy to say that when you have a consistent support group around you and the ghost-like advocacy from familial/romantic love that somehow goes unacknowledged and becomes invisible when these truisms are repeated…. Why not just honour those connections as what they are - necessary, salvational and important? Isn’t it insulting to pretend you’re stronger than other people when actually you just have a loving, caring family and can bounce back from difficulty with that knowledge in the back of your mind?

Studies have shown that the ability to effectively love and provide for someone else needs to be taught first and demonstrated properly, it doesn’t just originate from self help books (which, by the way, is a multimillion dollar industry….I wonder why!) Humans are social animals and they always have been, and even though all relationships are inconsistent and unreliable to some degree they’re absolutely important to our survival. Maybe all of us have varied needs but that simplistic urging to just “love myself” as a form of advice in response to loneliness, albeit from a good place, was very dangerous to me and quite harmful when connection and outside support was what I needed the most. I speak for myself only when I say this but a lot of different communities/support networks aren’t available or accessible to a lot of us.

anonymous asked:

The thought of Dean stumbling around drunk in the streets (or worse, driving home in that condition) makes me so sad. I mean the whole scenario does; he's 40, so drunk he can't get to the bed, found passed out with a bra wrapped around him and a whiskey bottle. I mean yeesh:-(

Yeah… we know the Clam Diver was “just outside” the town, which implies driving distance and not drunken stumbling distance. If Dean was so drunk that he couldn’t even make himself land on the bed and looked like he was lucky he managed to hit the floor… I mean, he got one shoe off and used it as a pillow.

If he was really that drunk, the bar wouldn’t have let him drive home. They would’ve called him a cab. Not to mention, aside from his tie headband and his shoe pillow, the rest of him looked relatively well put together (buttons buttoned neatly, coat on properly, etc.).

And did he really walk around the rest of the night wearing a pretty pink bra around his neck? Did he wear it to the liquor store where he bought that bottle? Did he wear it walking through the hotel? Because he was too drunk to care about his appearance in a town where he was pretending to be an FBI agent for a case where one boy was missing and another had been rendered mute by his experience?

And if Dean was really so drunk that he didn’t care about any of that, how did he end up in that spot on the floor without waking Sam up? Opening the door in the middle of the night, so drunk that he could barely stand up (and couldn’t even make it to the bed), and yet not so drunk that his stumbling and fumbling woke Sam up? 

(here’s the embiggened version)

He was apparently messing with the TV remote as well? How? I mean… how did none of this apparent fumbling around the room not wake Sam up?

It’s like Dean was just tired of Sam pushing at him to just be “okay” again. Because Sam wasn’t really pushing Dean to be okay, he was pushing Dean to perform a specific version of Dean. Not because it would make Dean feel better, but because it would make Sam feel better about how Dean is coping.

Dean: I’m fine.
Sam: Look, you’re not, Dean. You said you don’t believe in anything, and – and that’s not true, that’s not you. You do believe in things, you believe in people. That’s who you are, that’s what you do. I know you’re in a dark place and I just want to help.
Dean: Okay. Look, I’ve been down this road before and I fought my way back, I will fight my way back again.
Sam: How?
Dean: Same way I always do: bullets, bacon, and booze. A lot of booze.

That’s what Sam needed Dean to be, to perform for him. To believe in something again, because yeah, Dean believes in people. He said it in 12.23:

DEAN: Yeah. You know, Cas has faith in this kid.
SAM: Mm.
DEAN: I hope he’s right. But me? I have faith in us. You, me, Mom, Cas. And Crowley. Sometimes.

But within an hour of that, 3/5 of the people Dean believed in were gone. And Sam’s now insisting that Dean just magically be okay with that, just let that go and just transfer all of that belief over to Jack, who Dean directly blames for the loss of the 3/5 people he believed in… 

And now that giving Dean the “mission” to help teach Jack (with the hope that Jack might eventually be able to open the rift to fetch Mary again) has failed to help snap Dean out of his funk, Sam is desperate to at least get Dean performing the motions that used to signal his unhealthy coping skills.

Heartily pushing a beer on Dean at breakfast when he just wanted a sandwich, tolerating his music instead of complaining about it, ordering him food he’d normally complain about Dean eating, reading online reviews of a strip club to recommend it to Dean when he typically avoids strip clubs himself, buying Dean hair of the dog. It’s annoying to Dean, but after his display in the motel room, when Sam hands him that bottle, he forgives Sam.

What does he forgive him for? For pushing him to just be okay when he just wanted to be left to grieve in his own way.

Notice Sam doesn’t push him again after that.

Notice also that Dean never drank either breakfast beer.

Sam: You okay?
Dean: No. Sam I’m not okay, I’m pretty far from okay. You know my whole life, I always believed that what we do was important. No matter what the cost, no matter who we lost. Whether it was Dad or Bobby or… and I would take the hit. But I kept on fighting because I believed that we were making the world a better place. And now Mom and Cas and I – I don’t know. I don’t know.
Sam: So you don’t believe anymore.
Dean: I just need a win. I just need a damn win.

Exactly the mental state Dean had diagnosed Cas with in 12.19. In the past, he’d still had Sam to believe in, the two of them against the world. Just fighting for Sam isn’t enough for him anymore. Something is different this time, and Dean doesn’t feel like he should have to perform the emotional labor to keep up a false front of coping for Sam anymore.

Like twig!Tasha told him in 12.20:

TASHA: Yeah. Family’s always complicated. Parents always see smart and strong and perfect. It’s only when you grow up that you realize that they’re just people.

Sam is finally seeing that Dean is just a person. Not that Sam had ever had illusions about Dean being perfect or whatever, but that act of always believing they could push through anything and come out the other side again isn’t the truth, and has never fully been the truth.

Heck, I’m watching 1.09 in the background while I write this up. And it wasn’t even the truth way back then… Dean kept up the “everything will be fine” act in front of Sam, essentially hid out behind a gas station and made his emotionally charged plea to John for help in the scene we’ve been paralleling to his prayer to God in 13.01. 

In 2.04, Sam confronted Dean yet again on how badly he was handling John’s death, after the case they stumbled over while Sam visited Mary’s grave. I mean, THEEEEEMES. Dabb is pulling all of these themes from early seasons, and standing them all on their heads. Because in 2.05, after Dean had spent weeks putting up a front for Sam, the truth is forced out of him by psychic manipulation:

Dean: We hunt demons.
Andy: What?
Sam: Dean!
Dean: Demons and spirits. Things your worst nightmares wouldn’t even touch. Sam here, he’s my brother…
Sam: Dean, shut up!
Dean: I’m trying. He’s psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you’re a murderer, and he’s afraid that he’s going to become one himself, ‘cause you’re all part of something that’s terrible. And, I hope to hell that he’s wrong, but I’m starting to get a little scared that he might be right.

Dean had buried all of this and kept it from Sam, much the same way Sam had buried some things that were pushed out in the open by another psychic manipulation (by a creepy ghost of a psychiatrist at an asylum, conveniently enough)… in 1.10:

Sam: That’s the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I’m not pathetic, like you.
Dean: So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?
Sam: You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We’re no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago.
Dean: Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you. Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!! You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!

Sam did it. But just like Dean brushing off the confessions Andy pulled out of him after the fact because it had been coercion, Sam brushed off what he’d said in that asylum, too.

Now in s13, Sam is asking– nay, begging– Dean to just brush this off again, to fake it ‘til he makes it, and Dean is saying no.

It’s honestly the healthiest damn way they’ve ever reacted in a situation like this.

I have no idea how I turned this ask into actual meta, but here you go.