there are no blurred lines

Maggie Sawyer || Open

Maggie gingerly shifted as she read over her case files once more, the low light in her apartment making her squint to see the slowly blurring lines. Had it been any other day she probably would have gotten up to switch on a light, but tonight? Tonight she was in pain, not that she’d let it show. Maggie had managed to wrench something in her back during patrol and now the whole thing was a mass of knots with even the slightest turn of her head sending fire down her spine.

btw, for everyone out there misinterpreting pied piper cause you just wanna be mad… “ 착해 “ does not mean “good girl,” it literally means “being nice.” As in, “I’m giving you a reward for being a good person” … the sort of weird, sexual undertone of “good girl” just isn’t there.  For this entire song the person being spoken to is genderless because it is easy to say all this without gender pronouns etc.  There is no way of knowing who they’re talking to in this song, just that they’re using informal speech (which is unsurprising since the song is literally about holding power over someone). 

If it creeps you out to listen to a song about BTS having power over the listener, that’s fine, but that is the point of the song. That’s not an interpretation??  By calling the song pied piper they are referring to themselves as A VILLAIN? I read it as a song about their guilt over making fans sacrifice time and money.  You can read it as a toxic, gross celebration of power over fans if you want, but even if you wanna read it that way please don’t claim that it “is” something sexual despite the fact that it is pretty clearly about them and their fame and their fans and not meant to be metaphorical in that way? Celeb-fan relationships have a very uneven power balance, but you want BTS to just act like they aren’t complicit in that???  Personally, I think it’s cool and fun and less fake to draw attention to in a tongue-in-cheek way, but you do you.

this whole thing just reeks to me of that scandal that IU went through, where she tried to sarcastically tell the story about how she had been objectified and infantilized her whole life, and then was destroyed by netizens for romanticizing lolita-ism.  Like, “we’ll all be ok with weird power structures between idols and fans, but once you idols are honest about them, we’re gonna act mad and grossed out.” You’re welcome to interpret music however you want, and you’re welcome to like it or not, but music cannot always be easily digestible and black and white.  Otherwise it’s boring.

SIGH

Harvey Weinsten sexually Harassed Lupita Nyong’o

Lupita: “I have been following the news and reading the accounts of women coming forward to talk about being assaulted by Harvey Weinstein and others. I had shelved my experience with Harvey far in the recesses of my mind, joining in the conspiracy of silence that has allowed this predator to prowl for so many years. I had felt very much alone when these things happened, and I had blamed myself for a lot of it, quite like many of the other women who have shared their stories.

But now that this is being discussed openly, I have not been able to avoid the memories resurfacing. I have felt sick in the pit of my stomach. I have felt such a flare of rage that the experience I recount below was not a unique incident with me, but rather part of a sinister pattern of behavior.

I met Harvey Weinstein in 2011 at an awards ceremony in Berlin, while I was still a student at the Yale School of Drama. An intermediary introduced him to me as “the most powerful producer in Hollywood.” As an aspiring actress, I was of course eager to meet people in the industry but cautious about strangers, and the intentions of men in general. So I tried to vet this famous producer by asking my dinner-table companions what they knew of him. A woman who was a producer herself cautiously advised me to “keep Harvey in your corner.” She said: “He is a good man to know in the business, but just be careful around him. He can be a bully.” And so I exchanged contacts with him in the hopes that I would be of consideration for one of his projects. I wanted to keep things professional, so I made a point of referring to him as “Mr. Weinstein.” But he insisted that I call him by his first name. In this first encounter, I found him to be very direct and authoritative, but also charming. He didn’t quite put me at ease, but he didn’t alarm me, either.

Not long after we met in Berlin, Harvey wrote to me inviting me to attend a screening of a film — a competitor’s film similar to one he had produced. He said we would be watching it with his family at his home in Westport, Conn., which was not far away from New Haven, where I was living at the time. He would send a car to pick me up. I accepted the invitation.

The driver and I met Harvey in the little town of Westport, where he informed me that we would be having lunch at a restaurant before getting to his home. I did not think much of this. It was a busy restaurant, and as soon as we sat down he ordered a vodka and diet soda for himself. I asked for a juice. Harvey was unimpressed with my choice and told the waiter to bring me a vodka and diet soda instead. I declined and said I wanted the juice. We went back and forth until finally he turned to the waiter and said, “Get her what I tell you to get her. I’m the one paying the bill.” I smiled and remained silent. The waiter left and returned with a vodka and diet soda for me. He placed it on the table beside my water. I drank the water. Harvey told me that I needed to drink the vodka and diet soda. I informed him that I would not.

“Why not?” I remember him asking. “Because I don’t like vodka, and I don’t like diet soda, and I don’t like them together,” I said. “You are going to drink that,” he insisted. I smiled again and said that I wouldn’t. He gave up and called me stubborn. I said, “I know.” And the meal proceeded without much further ado. In this second encounter with Harvey, I found him to be pushy and idiosyncratic more than anything.

We got to his home after lunch and I met his domestic staff and his young children. He took me on a brief tour of the house before he rounded us all up in the screening room to watch the film. He had just produced a similar film of his own, but everyone was raving about this rival version.

I settled in for the film, but about 15 minutes in, Harvey came for me, saying he wanted to show me something. I protested that I wanted to finish the film first, but he insisted I go with him, laying down the law as though I too was one of his children. I did not want another back-and-forth in front of his kids, so I complied and left the room with him. I explained that I really wanted to see the film. He said we’d go back shortly.

Harvey led me into a bedroom — his bedroom — and announced that he wanted to give me a massage. I thought he was joking at first. He was not. For the first time since I met him, I felt unsafe. I panicked a little and thought quickly to offer to give him one instead: It would allow me to be in control physically, to know exactly where his hands were at all times.

Part of our drama school curriculum at Yale included body work, using massage techniques on one another to understand the connection between body, mind and emotion, and so I felt I could rationalize giving him one and keep a semblance of professionalism in spite of the bizarre circumstance. He agreed to this and lay on the bed. I began to massage his back to buy myself time to figure out how to extricate myself from this undesirable situation. Before long he said he wanted to take off his pants. I told him not to do that and informed him that it would make me extremely uncomfortable. He got up anyway to do so and I headed for the door, saying that I was not at all comfortable with that. “If we’re not going to watch the film, I really should head back to school,” I said.

I opened the door and stood by the frame. He put his shirt on and again mentioned how stubborn I was. I agreed with an easy laugh, trying to get myself out of the situation safely. I was after all on his premises, and the members of his household, the potential witnesses, were all (strategically, it seems to me now) in a soundproof room.

Earlier Harvey had sent the driver to the store to buy a boxed collection of “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency,” an HBO show that he had produced. This was the project he thought I would be right for, he said. (I later found out that the show had not been on the air for some time.) As I prepared to leave his home, he presented it to me. He wanted me to check it out and let him know what I thought. He would be in touch about it. I left for New Haven with his driver.

I didn’t quite know how to process the massage incident. I reasoned that it had been inappropriate and uncalled-for, but not overtly sexual. I was entering into a business where the intimate is often professional and so the lines are blurred. I was in an educational program where I was giving massages to my classmates and colleagues every day. Though the incident with Harvey had made me uncomfortable, I was able to explain and justify it to myself, and shelve it as an awkward moment. His offer to me to be a part of the HBO show was a very attractive one and I was excited about it, especially as I would be graduating in another year. I didn’t know how to proceed without jeopardizing my future. But I knew I would not be accepting any more visits to private spaces with Harvey Weinstein.

I decided to invite Harvey to come to a production I was in at school. Perhaps that way he would really see what I had to offer, and he would see my colleagues, too. He accepted the invitation, but the night of the production, he sent a message saying he had been caught up in New York and would be unable to attend. He would make it up to me. So when I received an official invitation to a staged reading of his new Broadway show, “Finding Neverland,” I was not surprised. I was still debating whether I should accept his invitation, and so I responded saying I was not certain that I could make it because of my school schedule. He responded with exactly the words I needed to hear: Come with whomever you want to come with. And so I invited two of my trusted male friends.

We attended the reading, and afterward Harvey invited us all to a restaurant for dinner with his comrades and collaborators. He sat me next to him, and another actress sat across from me. He had my friends sit at a different table. The talk was shop the whole time and Harvey held court with ease. He was charming and funny once more, and I felt confused about the discomfort I had previously experienced. I looked at the actress who I was informed had just worked with him on a project, searching her face for any sort of indication that she too had been made to feel uncomfortable by this powerful man, but of course I saw nothing. We did not stay very long because we had to catch a train back to New Haven. My friends had been equally charmed by Harvey. He knew when to turn it on if he wanted something. He was definitely a bully, but he could be really charming, which was disarming and confusing. I left feeling that perhaps he had learned my boundaries and was going to respect them.

A couple of months later, I received an email from Harvey, inviting me again to New York for a screening of “W.E.” After the screening, we would have drinks in TriBeCa. I then received a phone call from one of his male assistants to arrange my transportation. Feeling more confident about the new sense of boundaries that we had established in our last meeting, I attended the screening on my own this time. Afterward, as planned, his male assistant arranged for me to get to the Tribeca Grill, where Harvey would be joining us. I met a female assistant when I arrived there. I was expecting that it would be a group of us, as it had been for the reading, but she informed me it would just be Mr. Weinstein. She would sit with me until he arrived. She seemed on edge, but I could only imagine how stressful it was to work for a man who had so much going on.

Harvey arrived and the assistant immediately disappeared. We ordered drinks and starters. Again he was offended by my nonalcoholic beverage choice but he didn’t fight me on it as hard. Before the starters arrived, he announced: “Let’s cut to the chase. I have a private room upstairs where we can have the rest of our meal.” I was stunned. I told him I preferred to eat in the restaurant. He told me not to be so naïve. If I wanted to be an actress, then I had to be willing to do this sort of thing. He said he had dated Famous Actress X and Y and look where that had gotten them.

I was silent for a while before I mustered up the courage to politely decline his offer. “You have no idea what you are passing up,” he said. “With all due respect, I would not be able to sleep at night if I did what you are asking, so I must pass,” I replied.

His whole demeanor changed at that point. “Then I guess we are two ships passing in the night.” I had never heard that saying before, so I remember asking him what it meant. “It means just that,” he said. “We are two ships going in two different directions.”

“Yes, I guess we are.”

“So we are done here,” he said. “You can leave.”

We got up, having not eaten anything, and he led me out of the restaurant. My heart was beating very fast. A cab was hailed for me. I said I would take the subway (I could not afford a cab at the time), but he handed me some money and told me not to be silly, take the cab. Before I got in, I needed to make sure that I had not awakened a beast that would go on to ruin my name and destroy my chances in the business even before I got there.

“I just want to know that we are good,” I said.

“I don’t know about your career, but you’ll be fine,” he said. It felt like both a threat and a reassurance at the same time; of what, I couldn’t be sure.

I did not see Harvey again until September 2013 when I was in Toronto for the premiere of “12 Years a Slave,” the first feature film I was in. At an after-party, he found me and evicted whoever was sitting next to me to sit beside me. He said he couldn’t believe how fast I had gotten to where I was, and that he had treated me so badly in the past. He was ashamed of his actions and he promised to respect me moving forward. I said thank you and left it at that. But I made a quiet promise to myself to never ever work with Harvey Weinstein.

Not long after I won the Academy Award in 2014, I received an offer to play a role in one of the Weinstein Company’s forthcoming films. I knew I would not do it simply because it was the Weinstein Company, but I did not feel comfortable telling this to anybody. I turned down the role, but Harvey would not take no for an answer. While at Cannes, he insisted on meeting with me in person. I agreed to do it only because my agent would be present. In the meeting, he was honest about intending to persuade me to do his movie. I told him I simply did not feel it was a role I needed to play. He said he was open to making it bigger, more significant, maybe they could add a love scene. He said if I did this one for him, he would do another one for me — basically guaranteeing backing a star-vehicle film for me. I ran out of ways of politely saying no and so did my agent. I was so exasperated by the end that I just kept quiet. Harvey finally accepted my position and expressed that he still wanted to work with me at some point. “Thank you, I hope so,” I lied.

And that was the last of my personal encounters with Harvey Weinstein. I share all of this now because I know now what I did not know then. I was part of a growing community of women who were secretly dealing with harassment by Harvey Weinstein. But I also did not know that there was a world in which anybody would care about my experience with him. You see, I was entering into a community that Harvey Weinstein had been in, and even shaped, long before I got there. He was one of the first people I met in the industry, and he told me, “This is the way it is.” And wherever I looked, everyone seemed to be bracing themselves and dealing with him, unchallenged. I did not know that things could change. I did not know that anybody wanted things to change. So my survival plan was to avoid Harvey and men like him at all costs, and I did not know that I had allies in this.

Fortunately for me, I have not dealt with any such incidents in the business since. And I think it is because all the projects I have been a part of have had women in positions of power, along with men who are feminists in their own right who have not abused their power. What I am most interested in now is combating the shame we go through that keeps us isolated and allows for harm to continue to be done. I wish I had known that there were women in the business I could have talked to. I wish I had known that there were ears to hear me. That justice could be served. There is clearly power in numbers. I thank the women who have spoken up and given me the strength to revisit this unfortunate moment in my past.

Our business is complicated because intimacy is part and parcel of our profession; as actors we are paid to do very intimate things in public. That’s why someone can have the audacity to invite you to their home or hotel and you show up. Precisely because of this we must stay vigilant and ensure that the professional intimacy is not abused. I hope we are in a pivotal moment where a sisterhood — and brotherhood of allies — is being formed in our industry. I hope we can form a community where a woman can speak up about abuse and not suffer another abuse by not being believed and instead being ridiculed. That’s why we don’t speak up — for fear of suffering twice, and for fear of being labeled and characterized by our moment of powerlessness. Though we may have endured powerlessness at the hands of Harvey Weinstein, by speaking up, speaking out and speaking together, we regain that power. And we hopefully ensure that this kind of rampant predatory behavior as an accepted feature of our industry dies here and now.

Now that we are speaking, let us never shut up about this kind of thing. I speak up to make certain that this is not the kind of misconduct that deserves a second chance. I speak up to contribute to the end of the conspiracy of silence.”


I’m so happy Lupita shared her story and I have so much more respect for her and commend her for sticking by her morals. It’s disgusting that Harvey would even try something with her while his kids were in the other room, what a sick bastard

10

Emily Deschanel & David Boreanaz - BTS vs Scenes (s8-12)

this album is so genius because because like humor and sarcasm are an obvious part of it but it’s so funny watching people who don’t want to believe the core of what the songs are about say things like “oh it’s just satire” or “oh this is just a character taylor is playing” like taylor is purposely blurring the lines between real and fake and i bet she’s having a blast watching people try and figure it out

  • Me: *reads the Iliad* wow, great Hannibal reference
  • Me: *watches the opera Duke Bluebeard's Castle* wow, great Hannibal reference
  • Me: *sees a mention of Hannibal of Carthage in an article*
  • WOW, GREAT HANNIBAL REFERENCE

PINOF Through the Ages

ah, November, that special time of year between halloween and christmas where i can buy “fun sized” (read “thumb sized”) chocolate bars and tinsel in the same aisle at walmart…

it’s also that time of year where members of the phandom, young and old, come together and collectively binge watch all the PINOF videos in preparation for the newest installment, as we wait with bated breath for what fresh hell we’re gonna be hit with this year.

today, i would like to share with you my observations of PINOF Through The Years, as we embark on the fucking trip that is sure to be PINOF 9…

Phil is not on fire (25 October 2009)

- can you IMAGINE what the hell Phil’s parents and/or brother must’ve thought when they were filming that/saw it for the first time?! Phil brings home this random kid he found in a train station and they start giggling like actual 12 year olds and wandering round the house talking about The Shining, using the exercise equipment Phil has probably never stepped foot on in his life, and drawing on their faces in sharpie? i can fucking HEAR Kath saying “Phil…honey…are you on the drugs?” and Martyn cackling like a lunatic in the background at his brother and his weird friend….

- Dan is trying so. damn. hard. not to laugh throughout the entire video.

- Speaking of Dan, even back then he was a sassy, cocky lil shit… “every animal makes that noise with you…” “wow Phil, i bet they’re all so glad they can see the diagram…” “no, okay, Phil has really crappy GHDs that don’t even work…they don’t even work…they are Poundland GHDs.”

- everyone always talks about The Tackle™ at the end of the video, but not NEARLY enough people talk about the lil smirk Phil gives the camera just before it…like, seriously?! that’s a “haha, here goes nothing!” kinda smirk. thats a “lol watch this!” kinda smirk. thats a “give the people what they want” kinda smirk…im just sayin’…

Phil is not on fire 2 (29 May 2010)

- okay, first of all, Dan…sweetheart…did you borrow that cardigan from your mum?

- Dan: “if you could choose which surname you had, what would be your decision?” Phil: “…umm…” *almost imperceptible but still definitely there jumpcut* Phil: “Striker!”….yeah, yeah, yeah, alright, everyone knows that Phil really said “yours” in an incredibly sheepish and embarrassed voice to Dan that made him go “awwww!….you’re cutting that out…”, but lets appreciate the editing skills it took to make the cut so completely (almost) seamless….

- oh. my. GOD! there is an ENTIRE post JUST about the microwave moment, but i have to reiterate it again for those who have recently entered this hellscape: imagine you are Phil Lester, a 23 year old adult with an ENGLISH LANGUAGE DEGREE, and in comes this adorable 18 year old twink trying to tell you that “microwave” is a fucking onomatopoeia! if i was Phil, THIS would be the moment i’d never let Dan live down. fuck “hello internet”, if he ever pissed me off i’d just be like “yeah, well, at least i know microwave isn’t a fucking onomatopoeia…” and walk away. argument done, you win every time.

- and that being said, again, lets appreciate how much we can learn from the facial expressions of Philip Michael Lester. in that moment, the look he gives Dan is pure “are you fucking serious…?” it is incredulity in a nutshell. it is shock and fondness and “oh my god you are such a twat…”. if there were a dictionary of facial expressions, Phil’s face at the moment Dan says fucking microwave is his favourite onomatopoeia would be the one next to the definition of “wtf?”

Phil is not on fire 3 (1 November 2011)

- 2011 was, by far, the WORST year for Dan and Phil’s hair. tragic. absolutely tragic…

- wow, Dan was right, every animal DOES make the same noise to Phil, including horrific genetic hybrids of land and sea mammals…

- Dan’s ability to almost unhinge his jaw is terrifying…and i’m sure has played a part in lots of phanfic that i’m definitely not going to look for ever…

- okay, seriously guys?! the word is vagina. say it with me: vagina. come on! all together now! it’s not a *awkward silence and weird hand gesture*, it’s not a “birth area", it’s just a vagina…for someone who knows so much about placenta, it strikes me as odd that Dan can’t say the word vagina out loud…

- i’ve never heard anyone giggle as much as Dan does in this video…

Phil is not on fire 4 (12 September 2012)

- the hair is better this year…slightly…

- whoever decided that those face mask things were a good idea needs to be buried alive…the way they look when they move is so horrifying, it gives me nightmares.

- the “gu-hoy!” noise Dan makes in this video (ts 3:21 if you’re at all interested) is my text alert on my phone and it makes me panic every time i watch it because im like “wtf is someone texting me for at 11:53 pm?!” but then i realize it’s just the video and that i’m actually still very alone and have no friends…

- (bloopers bonus!) petition to have 2012 be known in the phandom as, ‘The Year Dan Was Finally Comfortable With The Word Vagina’. that’s all it was guys! he learned a new word and just wanted to show how broad his vocabulary had become!

Phil is not on fire 5 (22 November 2013)

- and right off the bat we’re affronted again by the fact that Dan and Phil have zero concept of how female anatomy works….

- this is probably the most uneventful pinof in the entire series.

Phil is not on fire 6 (6 November 2014)

- to return to the hair discourse, i firmly maintain that 2014 was the best year for their haircuts/styles.

- Phil has no concept of what a sassy face is…

- #StopPhil201X needs to just be a recurring thing every year…

- that poor, poor snake…

- petition for Dan to sing the national anthem at every tour stop in 2018

- the idea of Dan trying to carry on the legacy of Phil Is Not On Fire after Phil’s death is so damn heartbreaking to me…i need a minute

- my lil demon soul is convinced that Phil was doing *something* to Dan’s neck when they both tried to fit through that sweater…i mean, look at his face when he laughs and says “stop". seriously?!

- something about Dan with his fringe swapped, on the wrong side of the bed, and wearing Phil’s shirt makes me feel almost uncomfortable, but in a way that i’m not entirely sure how to process…

- (bloopers bonus!) to reiterate! every animal does, in fact, make the same noise to Phil. this has now been confirmed 3 times.

- (bloopers bonus!) the amount of pleasure Phil is able to derive from any mention of Hello Internet warms the deepest recesses of my soul like the light of the sun after a 1000 year winter.

Phil is not on fire 7 (29 November 2015)

- uh, excuse me? do not drag my country in such a way. Canada is indeed real. it’s where maple syrup comes from. as someone who enjoys the simplicity of a good pancake, i expected better from you Mr. Philip.

- i feel so bad for their neighbours during the stress mushroom tug of war…like, can you imagine what those poor people must’ve thought of them? i’d love to interview their neighbours one day…better yet, their neighbours should write a book: “I Lived Next To YouTubers For 5 Years: The Adventure" and just have it be a chronicle of every weird thing they ever witnessed/encountered.

- with every passing year, Dan’s knowledge of fanfiction tropes and writing styles becomes increasingly disturbing…hide the smut everyone Daniel Howell is coming for it.

- Phil! with the puns! honestly Dan, how do you put up with this man?

- (bloopers bonus!) the way dans voice changes when he grabs Phils underwear and is just ENTHRALLED with the fact that he’s colour coordinates his boxers to his bedsheets is probably the single most disgusting thing i have ever witnessed in my entire life…i mean, i love it, but why are you SO EXTRA?!

Phil is not on fire 8 (29 November 2016)

- NOTHING in the animal or cutlery kingdoms should be born or created in the way Phil describes the birthing process of a spork!

- okay. OKAY! i love the fringes, i really do. i’m a fringe fan from way back, but the hair pushed back thing they get going on sometimes? i can get on board with that.

- aaaannd at 1:57 into pinof 8, the little game i like to play called “Phan or Viktuuri" had all of its lines blurred so far beyond recognition i’m not even sure which universe i’m living in anymore.

- the PSA for “staying hydrated"…such a harmless, and beautiful message about health and self care that the phandom managed to turn into a sex meme…but no one is surprised by that now, are they?

- i need to know why that stock photo exists in the first place…also, why the hell was Phil wearing sandals in November?

- (bloopers bonus!) Phil: “phil is not on fire 8! this time its…what the tagline?” the phandom: “…gayer than ever?” Dan: “full of regrets.” the phandom: “…i mean I GUESS!!!”

- (bloopers bonus!) everything about this blooper reel just confirms even more solidly that Dan is the biggest Phil fan in the world. i’m not gonna wax poetic about the compliments or the comparisons to sunshine or anything else, because at this point is it really necessary? no. i thought not.

and there we have it. just in time for PINOF 9 to be released, a full (and much more in depth than intended) recap of the saga thus far…wake me up when Gamingmas starts, cuz after this video comes out, i’m gonna need a solid week of sleep

I’m sorry to all those who followed me for fantasy stuff and are being bombarded with wrestler fanart; there will be more of my normal stuff in the future but I’ve been dying to paint wrestlers for so long. My daily studies are giving me both the excuse to do it and the constraint of finishing it in 1 or 2 sittings, and they make me happy. I am not a full time wrestle artist now, promise. That’s not to say I’m stopping any time soon.

I started this last night during the Elimination Chamber preshow because I had faith in the GLOW QUEEN and guess what, Naomi is the new Smackdown women’s champ and all is good with the world. (Though if I’d waited until after her win I would have had better ref than low res Smackdown screencaps and it would have been a less frustrating painting with a better result, OH WELL.)

“It’s funny how Adam [Driver, who plays Kylo Ren] talks about it. He said it’s not the difference between good and bad, it’s the difference between good and right. Like his character thinks what he’s doing is right. He doesn’t think he’s the big baddie. So the lines get blurred anyway.

Good people make bad decisions. Bad people make good decisions. What Rian has done is this wonderful thing of morally questioning people in a way that makes you see them in a more three dimensional way, or just in a way that you haven’t seen before.”

Daisy Ridley on who the real ‘bad guy’ is in the sequel trilogy, SciFiNow Magazine