these are so dark sorry

On an ordinary day of my ordinary life without dark clouds over my head, full of energy and optimistic feelings I am talking to myself:

“Ha, Kathi, you don´t need likes or reblogs to push your self-confidence ;) you are a good artist and you learned so much in the last year! You are SO COOL GIRL!” *pat´s her own shoulder*

On a depressing, down pushing and emotional unstable feeling day of my ordinary life I am talking to myself:

“T______T please, guys, I need your help to come out of this hole and try to live on! I need your support so that I can say to myself that there is something I am worth living! It´s not because I am a shitty bitch who yearns for attention and likes and followers! It´s so that I can see that the thing that I am doing (drawing) is good enough to get your like and love. So that I can see that I am good in at least ONE THING even if I am hating myself for everything I am. It feels like that little “love” is not only for my drawing, it gets through to myself.” *builds a castle out of blankets and hopes for the day to pass*

Originally posted by lostblackswan

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terryfphanatics  asked:

Thank you for your Anne Rice/Fandom relation post and then the BOLDING of writing of dark content does not equate a desire for it to be replicated in the physical world. I'm a 100% behind that sentiment.

Thank you for appreciating that [post is here]! It always feels like I’m going out in front of a firing squad when I say that “creating/consuming dark fiction is not endorsement of it in real life” because people who do conflate those will insist that I’m an x,y,z-apologist. No. That’s incorrect. 

ANOTHER WALL OF TEXT™ what is happening to me? I just miss you guys a lot, that’s what ;)

“Why did this person say/do this thing?”

I support the creation and consumption of dark content in media, in fic/art/music/etc. as a means of exploring it, as a means of unpacking it, as a means of trying to figure out where it comes from and how to recognize it. Sometimes it’s not so easy to pick out the “bad guy.” Sometimes the “abuser” seems to be a “good” person. Sometimes the “abuser” is reenacting their own trauma. Finding reasons for a behavior are not excuses for that behavior, but it can help provide answers for those of us who want them.


~Story time~

My grandmother was a tough old lady, what we call a “battle-axe.” She was blunt and tactless, and downright MEAN most of the time. She raised her children through terror and bullying, held grudges for decades, was short-tempered with her in-laws and grandchildren.

She was also very smart in her role as a professor in a college, and had a sweetness to her that very few people in my family experienced bc they were so deterred by her tough exterior. I was one of the few who got close to her, and I wanted to know why she behaved the way she did to others. 

Seeing movies like Mommie Dearest, in which Joan Crawford was portrayed as somewhat of battle-axe to everyone in her life, too, I could see similarities between her and my grandmother. 

  1. Could my grandmother have had the kind of pressure in her life that Joan did, competing with the misogyny in her career? I thought so. 
  2. Both of these women set incredibly high expectations for themselves and others, and then reacted badly if reality didn’t meet their expectations. They were not good at handling disappointment and would take it out on others.
  3. In other media, I would see “only” children worshiped by their parents and then these women were dissatisfied, bitter adults, who would never get that kind of attention again. (Not sure about Joan Crawford, but that was my grandmother’s childhood.) 

^What I’m saying is that media (fic/movies/books/music/etc.) gave me insights as to why my grandmother behaved the way she did. It provided reasons for the behavior. I didn’t take these as excuses, but it increased my empathy for her and others I met who were like her. Rather than do as the rest of my family did, by writing her off as “a mean old lady,” I could understand her and navigate my way into a better relationship with her. They missed out on her good parts because of her bruises.

^The first time I saw this graphic, I felt that expression in my soul. These are fictional characters. They are not real. Writers write them. What is “writing” anyway, but speculative reality? We used to call fanfiction “specs,” short for “speculative fiction.” It’s thoughts. Not all writing is for idealized versions of life and/or wish-fulfillment.

I’ve heard from VC fans who are survivors of child abuse, sexual abuse, etc. who said that VC helped them in some way,

  • whether it was recognizing that the abuse they suffered really was abuse (and not normal!), 
  • or whether they have since made fanworks with VC characters that helped them explore their own past and examine it from a place of safety,
  • or in consuming other fanworks, they got some closure on their own experiences in some way and were able to heal or begin to do so, 
  • or just in making friends here that have helped them through difficult times,
  • I could go on and on… there is enormous value in creating/consuming dark fiction. 

Whatever Anne Rice’s agenda is/was in writing the Vampire Chronicles, it doesn’t matter to me, because of how much good I have witnessed that has come from it. If some of her inspiration for certain aspects seems relevant to me, I consider it, but it doesn’t really matter as far as I’m concerned. 

It all really boils down to the old adage “Live and Let Live.” 

I don’t care how many problems you have with Heroes the way Shadow says “level up!” makes it a perfect game

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Finished the shit-comic from this sketchdump because I still think it’s funny. :3c

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Castlevania S01 (2017) : 

favourite aesthetic shots 

Now that I think about it, this comeback is so clever? They mentioned that this comeback marks the end of Seventeen as “boys” and that this comeback reflects on all that they’ve done up until this point, and from the M/V, we can clearly see that from the props from Al1 teasers, as well as the references to the scenes they’ve done from the music videos leading up to this comeback.

The fact that this comeback is called CLAP means its the end of an “act” and they’re giving a round of applause for the end of their “play” which is Seventeen as boys from debut up till now.

I can’t wait to see what kind of image/sound they will give up in future comebacks, but for now I’ll enjoy this colorful era :’)

hey yall. i just realized something.

this is probably gonna be long but whatever. stick with me.

soooo im currently rereading the original pjo series. and i am feeling. so many. things. i realized a lot of things too.

okayyy so in PJO, we view percy as reckless. stupid. always acting on impulse. basically that dumb guy that never thinks befire doing things. BUT in HOO, we start viewing him as mature and smart and strategic and all that. But he didnt grow THAT much. Percy didnt age that much in hoo.

Remember that iconic scene (Mark of Athena, i think?) where they meet some kind of monster/bad ppl (im too lazy to search it up) aboard the argo II and it was percy that thought of saying that Dionysus was with them? Percy knew about their fear of dionysus, and how he turned them inti dolphins. So he got some diet coke as “proof” that he was there and asked frank to turn into a dolphin. Genius, right?

Annabeth called him smart after that.

That was the only time we considered him smart. (Well not ONLY, just one of the few times.) But guess what? He’s been doing smart shit like that for years already.

I cant really mention all of the times he did something smart/wise. If i did it would take me days before i finish typing.

So i realized why we only thought he was smart in hoo but not in pjo.

In PJO, it was in first person, so we saw everything through the eyes of percy. In this series, he only focused about how stupid he was, about how great other people were and how better they are then him. But he doesnt focus about all the good/smart/wise things he’s done. Percy doesnt know that he’s smart. All he knows is that he is stupid, worthless, and all other negative things.

in HOO, however, we were reading from another person’s point of view. We saw percy from another person’s eyes. We noticed things that he doesnt notice himself.

Hazel called him a god, once, because he was just THAT attractive. Everyone else looked up to him, and thinks he’s the most powerful/strongest person to exist.

But Percy doesnt know that. All he knows is that he’s stupid.

SOOOO, long story short, Percy hates himself.

Ok bye sorry if this was long I just love Percy so much and i a m f e e l i n g s o m U C h

Dean barely notices when Sam runs into the house to investigate the nephilim situation. His eyes dart this way and that, taking in the tattered, broken wingspan spread out before him.

All of the times that he lost Cas, he never saw his wings. Not once. And it feels so…final.

Dean’s lips tremble as he casts his gaze upwards towards where he knows heaven is watching. He wonders if the angels care. He wonders if God cares.

He knows Chuck probably isn’t even in heaven, and maybe he has his ears turned off while he’s having the family meeting to end all family meetings with Amara, but he tries anyway. He wants to beg, bargain, and scream, but he’s not sure he can speak. He sends up a plea, his lips mouthing silent prayers.

The air is still. Too still. Deathly still.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and slumps down to the ground. He bows his head down, but he can’t yet bear to look. Not yet. Not again.

He breathes, and it feels like a monumental effort. He is hyper aware of being alive, of his lungs filling with oxygen and expelling carbon dioxide, and suddenly he thinks he might understand why yoga helps to clear the mind. Maybe he’ll take it up. He could do with a nice, clear mind after…after…

He opens his eyes. Cas is there, but he isn’t.

Dean swallows against the burning lump in his throat as he reaches a hand out. Hand touches hand. One is cold.

Dean stares at the eyes and wills them to open as he curls his fingers around the still, cold hand. And finally, after much effort, he finds that he can speak.

“Please,” Dean pleads, his voice smaller than he thinks it has ever been. “Please. Cas. I need you.”

No. That’s not right. That’s not enough.

“I love you.”

Too late. He says it, finally, after all of these years, and it falls on deaf ears. Ears that will never hear those words.

Dean’s eyes sting. “Come back. Like you always do.” His voice cracks. “I love you. I love you. I love you. Please come back.”

The world is still. Too still.

He’s not coming back this time.

Dean folds himself over Cas’s body and finally allows himself to break.