#◜morgan: isms.◞

[blcsscdson]

Small Tag Dump

[forev3r]

[temeryte]

Rust tag dump (1/2).

[ghostsxagain]

Tag drop for Leni...

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Some more thoughts on Netflix One Piece episode 1 (as someone who has never watched or read the series, so this is the only One Piece content I’ve ever gotten into):

1) I like how Luffy called himself out on shouting out his move set. It definitely feels like the show was made by writers who know their anime-isms.

2) This man Zoro’s jaw is as strong as Captain America’s biceps.

3) Damn, they really got Deke Shaw to play Pennywise. Also, what the fuck, there’s a Pennywise pirate?

4) This show somehow managed to drag Ian McShane out of bed to play the narrator.

5) “Captain Morgan” I see what you did there. I’m assuming that was the intention.

6) Shockingly, not as much rum drinking as I thought there’d be. Pretty sure no one besides me actually cares about that.

7) Part of me is laughing at the fact that I can tell where there would be a backstory flashback in the anime. One of my pet peeves about anime in general is the over-reliance on flashbacks, so the show only sticking to Luffy flashbacks so far feels like a good choice.

8) I know that anime is known for fan service, but I wasn’t expecting to see man ass in the first episode.

Anyways, onto episode 2.

[boopsiesdaisies]

Check (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Literally my first fanfic since middle school, sorry y'all. I got that Spencer Reid brainrot. ALSO how does this work on Tumblr??? I legit haven't done this since you could fancast on Wattpad.

Spencer Reid x Reader | 1,470 words | Fluff | GN!Reader

Literally you two on the jet playing chess, set in season one/early season two.

“Do not even think about it!” You yelled, “I’m going to win if this is the last thing I do!”

Reid struggled to stifle his crooked smirk. He knew you were just going to get more upset if you saw him smiling. “I was just going to say you’re in check.”

“I’m going to put you in check in a second, Reid.” The chessboard was beginning to mock you. It must have been rigged. There must have been magnets underneath the board changing everything making this impossible to win. Plus Morgan’s soft snorts whenever you yelled at Reid reminded you that the rest of the team was watching you get your ass handed to you.

“Actually you have less than a three percent chance of doing that,” Reid explained. “And if anything about the last six games have been telling then it’s probably lower than that.”

“I swear to God, Reid,” you exclaimed. “I’ll show you what check looks like.”

You weren’t even sure how you got here. Gideon had cornered you after the case saying “he needed to rest on the jet” and that “you should get Reid to teach you how to play chess” something something “it’ll make you a better profiler” something something else. You were bad for not always listening to Gideon’s Dad-isms, but you couldn’t always help it. You wanted to rest! The week in New Mexico had been exhausting. You wanted nothing more than to close your eyes on the jet with your headphones blasting whatever awful audiobook you started before the case that you didn’t really care about and sleep. Sleep like no one could wake you up for another thousand years. Plus, you were pretty sure it was more of the case of Gideon was worried about Reid and less of you needing to be a better profiler. Sure, you weren’t the top of your class but you were far from a fledgling who needed chess to make you better at your job. 

Despite that, there you sat. Six lost games of chess later, and only an hour and a half into the four and half hour flight. Maybe it was pathetic to try to fight at this point. The cheat sheet Reid had written up for you felt useless. The pieces all blurred together and what even was the difference between a rook and a bishop?

“Are you going to make a move?” Reid asked.

“Yes! I’m just thinking,” you shifted the way you were sitting, slightly bumping the table, getting a terribly brilliant idea. The pieces had just jumped slightly as you hit the table by accident. You just had to sell it.

“Do you feel that Reid?” You asked, the fake worry dripping like honey from your voice.

“Feel what?” He snapped his head back and forth between you and the side of the jet.

“Oh no! Turbulence!” You shifted your legs again, crossing them differently; in the process you kicked the table from underneath as hard as you could. The chess pieces dramatically went flying much further and harder than you expected. Rooks and pawns scattered across the table and the floor in front of both you and Reid.

“What? There’s no turbulence, you can’t just scatter the pieces because you were losing!” Reid yelled trying to grab pieces and place them back in their positions. “Plus, I have an eidetic memory, I know where the pieces were!”

The rest of the team was laughing; pulled away from their activities to watch the commotion. You groaned and leaned under the table to grab the pieces.

“If you don’t want to play, you don’t have to,” Reid’s face hadn’t fallen, but from the tone of voice part of you felt it was laced with something. It felt reminiscent of disappointment, but like he was trying to mask it. 

You sensed it before you processed it and began to speak on pure instinct. “Sorry, Reid, why don’t we reset?”

Part of you wanted to get to know the brainiac doctor better and this was the opportunity to do so, but it would mean admitting you were bad at something. Somehow you were the most competitive person on the team, and Gideon must have known that. You were always getting your nose into arguments trying to win sheerly for the fact of wanting to win, less about caring about a topic. Some people saw that as a flaw, but you always saw it as the trait that got you here. You lived your life out of spite, and competitiveness was the unfortunate consequence of that. By the time you had grabbed the single pawn off the floor, Reid had leaned under the table searching for it too. 

“I got it,” you sigh and go to stand up. In the moment of fate, your confidence was struck down even lower to the lowest of clichés. In a flash of an instance, as the two of you attempted to right yourselves and unfold from underneath the table, you hit heads. It was just like those cheesy rom coms that Garcia forced you to watch on your girls’ nights that you pretended to hate. 

“Oh shit, sorry Reid–”

“No, I’m sorry– I–I’m–Um–Sorry, I–” Reid stuttered, and you realized just how precarious your position was, nose to nose under the table where no one could see you.

It was the first time you were that close to Reid, the infamous germaphobe who refused handshakes from everyone always seemed to keep his distance from you. You finally got a good look at him. Glasses that framed his face, his soft doe-like brown eyes, and brown hair that curled just so gently under his ears. The heat began to rise to your face, and Reid’s face had the same reaction. The red blush spread from the apples of his cheeks to his ears and down his neck. You cursed the universe that he was exactly your type: gangly limbs, genius-intellect, perfect eyes and all. 

Reid practically jumped trying to get out from under the table, hitting his head as he went and sat back at the seat. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and climbed out from under the table. When you resurfaced, you avoided Reid’s gaze, and Morgan’s eyes were the first that you met. As began to realize your mistake, he began to purse his lips and rub his hands up his arms as if he was poorly making out with his imaginary woman. 

“Morgan, if that's how you kiss a woman, I feel sorry for Garcia,” you laced your words with as much venom as you could muster.

You turned back to Reid who was carefully lifting and replacing the chess pieces on the squares. 

“Did you know that chess was actually called chaturanga when it was first played in India in the 8th century CE? Plus it was actually played on an eight by eight grid and it wasn’t until it began to spread to Europe in the 10th century CE that it began to shift to the chess we’re playing. Even then it would take over a thousand years before either of us would know how to play,” Reid was coping as best as he could, even though you were afraid you broke him. He was relying on his intellect to avoid the topic at hand. 

Why was he even so embarrassed? Why were you? It wasn’t like you thought he was attractive. Sure, he was your type! But that didn’t mean anything. You could think a man was hot without wanting to date him. And sure, he was perfect for you, and maybe you were even more competitive than usual because you wanted to impress him but that would be ridiculous. 

Oh…

You were down bad. 

“I didn’t know that, although I’m sure you can play chess, I think I’m just moving pieces around,” you shamefully admitted.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry, once you know how the piece moves it will get easier,” Reid’s reassurance immediately struck your heart. Damnit. 

“Why don’t you just explain it all to me again?” You asked. “Like treat me like I’m a kid, maybe I’ll get it better then.”

“Okay, so there are 32 pieces on a chessboard, and you control 16 of them. There are six types of pieces…”

“You knew what you were doing,” Hotch leaned over to Gideon watching the two members of the team playing chess; staying as carefully out of earshot as he could. Reid carefully re-explaining the pieces, pointing to each one. 

“Of course I did,” Gideon said. “If  the two of them pined after each other in silence for two more minutes I thought I was going to lose it. Now they have four hours to spend with each other because neither of them will give up.”

[squirrellypoo]

Ep8 "What Can The Damned Really Say To The Damned" rewatch thoughts (Part 2)

Here's my second set of things I noticed on my third rewatch! Part 1 is here if you missed it...

11. On Claudia's first visit to the forest, we can briefly see a red mark on one of the trees. When brightened up, it's clearly a handprint, in fresh blood. Edit: ah, it’s not blood but paint from the kids painting their hands and slapping trees to show how far they could go into the forest!

12. I totally missed that the BBC radio bulletin talks about looted art being loaded onto trucks to be taken back to Paris! So that’s how they knew to jump in a truck and be taken all the way there rather than just random hitch-hiking.

13. Morgan mentions that Louis's photo of Grace was printed onto albumen, by a glass-plate camera, and I was intrigued by this and wanted to learn more. If you're also interested, have a read of this Wikipedia article.

14. I thought I must've been missing some sort of reference in Daniel's “Maybe you’re just frosting the pie?” line (about Louis remembering Claudia dreaming), but Google has no evidence this is a saying? So it looks like this was just a Daniel-ism? How odd.

15. Ohhhhh it's a factory they're all camping in! That makes sense, with the thick walls and boiler room, but I couldn't quite work out whether it was a church or meeting hall or what.

16. Claudia is singing the Anna Anna nursery rhyme that the children just taught her in order to lure the pissing soldier into the woods. Nice touch!

17. Both soldiers from the woods are in Daciana's castle. First we see one in the room that Louis and Claudia pass through before the one on the table by the fire that she calls “a burnt tray of bread”. Guess this first guy just dies after a while? Or maybe Louis and Claudia finish him off?

18. In the Dubai bedroom, there’s nothing on Armand’s bedside table (nothing!) but on Louis’s side there are so many well-thumbed books, cascading from the nightstand onto the floor…

19. The TdV programme is for “Des Cris Dans Les Ténèbres!” (Shrieks in the Darkness). I love that the actual item is in French, but the posters up all around Paris are in English, because Louis would’ve translated them into English and that’s how he remembered them! The details! 🤌

20. In the truck scene, Louis is still healing from Daciana’s attack. It made me wonder how long it would take to drive (pre-motorways!) from Romania to Paris. So I looked it up, and using modern roads, but avoiding motorways, it'd take 31hrs straight. But they’d have to break to sleep somewhere safe in the day, and many of the roads and bridges would likely have been bombed and required detours, so I think we can assume it'd take several days to get there. So if Louis still isn't healed by the time we see them outside Paris, he is one seriously malnourished vampire. 😔 The blood really was bad there!

And that's my list of weird things I noticed in the first episode! Part 1 is here if you missed it, and do let me know in the notes if there's any of these you missed, too!

[schraubd]

Opposing Antisemitism is Hard When You Just Assume It's a Political Stunt

The Republican Party of Texas just voted down a resolution that would have barred the state GOP from associating with persons "known to espouse or tolerate antisemitism, pro-Nazi sympathies or Holocaust denial." The internet is having a field day over this, and understandably so. Meanwhile, one of the resolution's proponents is baffled: “I just don’t understand how people who routinely refer to others as leftists, liberals, communists, socialists and RINOs (‘Republicans in Name Only’) don’t have the discernment to define what a Nazi is,” committee member Morgan Cisneros Graham told the Tribune after the vote. Far from raising a question, Graham has in fact answered it. The litany listed here -- "leftists, liberals, communists, socialists, RINOs" -- none of these are, in their "routine" use by Republican officials, terms that are actually meant to carry some sort of principled semantic meaning. They're slurs -- bits of rhetorical seasoning, nothing more. And it's no surprise that Republicans treat antisemitism and Nazism, like all other "-isms", in the same fashion -- as a contentless slur one opportunistically hurls at political opponents. They have genuinely drunk their own kool-aid on this. They really don't think that, when people talk about antisemitism or neo-Nazis, they might be referring to something real and objective in the world. Of course it's meaningless theater.  And if one believes that, then it absolutely makes sense why one would be worried about vagueness and unclear boundaries. The article observes that some committee members "questioned how their colleagues could find words like 'antisemitism' too vague, despite frequently lobbing it and other terms at their political opponents." Again, this bafflement disappears once one realizes that for these Republicans, the vagueness and lack of definition is a service, not a barrier, to the frequent lobbing -- it is because they studiously avoid thinking that antisemitism means anything that they can toss it out to attack everything. This is why one can never trust Republicans to tackle antisemitism. I mean yes, for the obvious reason that they can't even reliably disavow Nazis. But also for the slightly less obvious but still important reason that their entire orientation towards "antisemitism" is that it is nothing more than a gambit in a political game.* They don't take it seriously as an actual, extant phenomenon, and so they'll never be able to respond to it as one. * Somewhere -- I can't find it -- I remarked on how Republicans, shortly after Ilhan Omar's "Benjamins" controversy, tried to gin up another controversy over Omar aggressively questioning conservative foreign policy maven Elliott Abrams. There was transparently nothing there on the Abrams thing, but many conservatives seemed baffled that their antisemitism claims weren't getting traction after so much attention was paid to the "Benjamins" tweet. What was the difference? The possibility that the difference could be explained by actual substance -- the "Benjamins" tweet was plausibly antisemitic, the Abrams questioning was not -- truly, genuinely didn't seem to occur to them. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/Yj9nldL

[micamicster]

To jump back a dozen posts in my beautiful mind we all know that garcia and morgan were not only in love but deeply sexually attracted to each other and they were kept apart by that special 2000s case of the week tv ism that didn’t believe in a) interracial couples or b) a fat woman being hot for real and not for jokes. Let us all bow our heads and shed a tear

[kk-cats]

kuhkats what if someone reposted ur morgan drew art with the morgan drew tag

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO POST ABOUT MORGAN DREW AN EMBARRASSING AMOUNT IF MORGAN DREW'S CREATOR SEES IT HUH. HUH. DO YOU WANT ME TO LAUGH AT YOU FOR NOT ESCAPING THE DC OC-ISM?? IS THAT IT.

[trulybetty]

oct' 07 x chestnuts

Prompt: chestnuts Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Bryony Morgan (OFC) Word Count: 982 Warnings: un-beta'd is the name of the game, barely a mention of the prompt, unabashed hippo content with a touch of spice with the mention of oral sex (f receiving) Summary: no clue how we started at chestnuts, through to hippos, but here we are - I just love these two

x. masterlist

Dieter's office was a paradox in every sense of the word—meticulously disorganized, both casual and sophisticated. A space Bryony had always suspected he rarely worked in, yet one that seemed to capture the essence of him so completely that you couldn't help but think it was an extension of his personality.

Bifold doors filled the back wall of the room that looked out to the garden behind his desk. Built in bookcases framed both sides of the room, all filled with various trinkets outlining both Dieter’s career and interests. His Oscar for ‘Hunger Strike’ stood amongst the trove, topped with a knitted hat Cricket had made a couple Christmases ago. The walls were adorned with paintings of Dieter’s own creations, framed and hung with care by Bryony.

“Conkers.”

“Con-kas?” Dieter repeated, a poor imitation of Bryony’s accent which earned him a pointed stare, “is this one of your weird British-ism things?”

Bryony shot him another glare, “It’s not weird, and it’s legit what they’re called.” she insisted, glancing at a ceramic hippo paperweight on his desk as if to imply that he was no stranger to 'weird.'

“Chestnuts.” Dieter countered.

“Conkers” Bryony reaffirmed, her eyes momentarily landing on the Oscar statue. Despite the hat, it looked oddly dignified.

Dieter chuckled, ripping the foil of a KitKat with a satisfying tear. “And they say I’m the one in this relationship that’s off balance.” 

“Well you are the man who is eating a KitKat, that he had my mother send him from the UK because they taste better than the American ones.” Bryony shot back, smirking as she looked over at the bookshelf nearest the sectional she was lounging on, it was filled with scripts, a mixture of fiction and nonfiction, and, of course, more hippos.

“Because they are,” Dieter said, defending his KitKat as if it were a point of honour. He snapped off a piece, biting into it with a satisfied grin.

“I know,” Bryony smirked.

“Châtaignes,” Dieter pronounced carefully, his mouth full of chocolate and wafer.

“Huh?” Bryony blinked, puzzled.

“Châtaignes,” he repeated again once he’d finished eating, “chestnuts in French, because I know it’s going to be your next question.”

Bryony smiled, because it was going to be her next question - she could listen to the man talk French, and he did at length, all day. He’d perfected his French lilt over the years since he started learning at twelve thinking it would help him with girls. 

His parents, European immigrants to the States well before Dieter was born, had long shed their own individual languages when they’d moved continents in an effort to assimilate to their new home. Though his relationship with his parents taut, he had a distinct memory of his mother talking about a French man who had courted her before his father came along. She still had romantic notions about the man decades later and owed it in part to the language he would speak which left a lasting impression on a young Dieter.

Bryony shook her head, amused. “You're insufferable.”

“And yet you suffer me,” Dieter replied with a cocky grin.

She glanced at the other trinkets around the room, particularly the hippo memorabilia. “Fiona still your muse?”

“My pride and joy,” he said, looking at the framed picture, signed in a childish scrawl as if the six-year-old hippo from Cincinnati Zoo had autographed it herself. “You know, they sent me a video update just last week. She's growing so beautifully.”

“You're the only adult I know who gets this excited about a hippo,” Bryony chuckled, amused.

“Jealous much?” Dieter waggled his brows, standing up to lean against the edge of his antique, walnut desk, which Bryony suspected had never seen a single day's work.

“Jealous of Fiona?” Bryony quirked an eyebrow. “No, although I wish I could get as much attention for just existing.”

“You don't need to be a cute hippo to get my attention,” Dieter said, the playful tone in his voice shifting ever so slightly towards sincere. “You've always had it.”

Bryony felt a warmth in her cheeks but chose to keep the atmosphere light. “Well, as long as I rank higher than a KitKat on your list of priorities, I think we're good.”

“You're definitely higher than a KitKat,” Dieter said, “but let's not get into dangerous territory by discussing where you stand in relation to Fiona.”

“Ah, so it's like that, is it?” She smirked, as she sat up on the sofa..

Dieter took another bite of his KitKat, savoring it. “Mmm, it's exactly like that.”

“This room is a trip, you know.” Bryony tapped the glass top of the surprisingly large coffee table as if to emphasize her point. It was held up by a bronze hippo with its baby underneath, “Only you could make this collection work.”

“You think it works?” He looked genuinely pleased.

“Absolutely. It's you, distilled into a room.”

Dieter chuckled and put down the remains of his KitKat, reaching his hand down to help Bryony stand from the sofa, “Speaking of things that work, I think it's worth noting that you fit pretty well into all of this, don't you think?”

She looked up at him, caught a bit off guard by the sudden change of tone as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Dieter eyed the obnoxious coffee table with a sly raise of his eyebrow, “No, Dieter.”

“What?”

“I’m not having sex with you on that thing.”

“I didn’t say have sex, in fact I didn’t say anything.”

“Dieter I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Well then Daff,” Dieter purred and before Bryony could protest found herself being lowered onto the glass table, the cold sting of the glass quickly replaced by the warmth of Dieter’s hands pushing up the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, the only thing she was wearing. “How about I reacquaint myself with you then?”

[madamescarlette]

Hi! List five things that make you happy; then, if you'd like to, put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you and spread some positivity! 🧡

There are probably more than enough of these in my inbox to go a little wild little crazy, so I'm like, why not list 25 things? (Love you Elli sending you my love!!!)

Dr. Pepper, but like no legitimately sometimes my reason for living is for the day I'll drink my darling battery acid soda next.

The feeling when you look right into a carnation and you keep wondering if you'll ever look right into the heart of it but it's constantly enfolded by a thousand tiny powdery folds. The mystery of it and the joy of it.

The gentle joy in my heart when people call me "Miss" Eden now. I don't actually know if it's a Southern-ism? But folks haven't really called me that since I was a little girl, but all of a sudden somebody did recently and it made me delighted for no reason at all. There's a weird perfect affection to it that's a joy to my heart.

Things that are blue in all shades and shapes and sizes, not least of all the particular eternal-blue of the October sky (headed towards me very soon!!!)

When you pick out a book on a whim and you might not be able to tell if it's truly good, but it reaches your HEART, and you have to cry in meeting it and being met in kind. (Indiscretion by Jude Morgan I still can't tell what I felt about you but you did make me cry so you know. There's that.)

Speaking of crying, I made (perhaps...the self-destructive?) decision to watch Persuasion 1995 and Miss Potter back to back last week and reader, I wept and I wept, but my emotions were in such a gooey state that I truly could not regret a bit of it. What's better than watching two of your old favorites and being enfolded by them?

Maybe a funny blessing, but I'm back in a choir that sings new things weekly and it is such a part of my heart that I had missed and I feel that part of me unfolding again from being hidden in the background for so long. JOY!

I have brand new glasses and will perhaps get another pair soon and I'm just. Vastly excited about it. They're like a shiny new facet of me and I love it.

So what if I'm an old lady and it brightens my heart endlessly that I can make my own tapioca pudding whenever my heart so calls for it. It's the little things in life babey.

Whenever I see my college best friend these days she HAS to pick me up when she's hugging me and spin around for a minute. And truly, everything to me.

I've kept this particular ProZD video open in my tabs since he posted it months ago because it never fails to make me cry-laugh I love this place so MUCH

It's just the right season to start wearing my beloved caramel-colored sweater again and it makes me the happiest to be back in my proper warm colors again. The world is right, you know?

Having Laufey's new album to listen to at lunch when I sit by the window and look outside into my favorite tree is such a beautiful memory that's going to endure burning bright in my soul for a very long time I think.

Similarly, having Maisie's album to happily caterwaul to when I drive to and fro as the sky paints itself a bright gracious blue or a heart-warming pink has been such a companion and comfort to my heart this summer, and I can't quite express how much it means to me. I haven't had an album be my friend this much in a minute, and I really needed that.

My brothers have taken to texting our sibling gc whenever they make some recipe they're particularly proud of lately, and it's so sweet and heartfelt to me whenever they all cry out in joy over each other.

Recently there was a visiting priest at church, and the joy when all of us in the choir realized simultaneously that he was Irish when he started talking was the funniest and sweetest to me. (Both my and my choir director's heads snapped up at the same time and it was the silliest billiest!!)

One of my grandfather's paintings sits on my wall now for me to look at every morning, a painting of the view out of his window, and it's just. Love to me, that's all.

I've been on a burst of reading again after a long period of stillness, and I just hit my goal (100) rather. sooner than I thought I would! It's a simple but beautiful thing! The gears of my brain are still moving after all, praise be for that.

I'm slowly coming out of my hardened, much-loathed yet unfortunately comforting shell of fear that I've lived in, fed and watered for the past few months. It's not much, but let's cheers to that. I sleep though the night and I go where I'm wanted, indeed!

I haven't gotten to play in the sandbox of story truly shamelessly and heedless of my own inner critic, but pray for me that this Inklings helps me break out of that. My mind is already turning, trying to spin something new, and it's also like meeting an old part of myself.

I decided to give Katherine Center's books another try recently, and I'm actually so glad that I did because she has the funny knack of making her characters into actual people, which not every romcom maker has the trick of. (Not a dig, btw, I am a romcom lover of old-- but even I must admit it's so nice to follow characters that act in the ways an adjusted adult does. Me at the end of the work day can only take so many fraught conversations, you know?)

Also might be silly, but I now own a blue lace dress of my teenage self's dreams and it fits me like a glove and I haven't stopped beaming with JOY over it.

I've been playing The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for the first time and I have to play it in veeeery tiny little chunks (like, an hour at a time, which takes great strength of will to do, let me tell you) because it makes me too happy and I feel the need to savor it, like bites of my favorite jam on toast.

Actually, you know what one of the best things in the world is? Lemon curd over melted butter on freshly baked bread. It's like eating sunshine.

The unburdening, lightening, brightening and gleaming feeling of being known when you've had a long talk with someone who can really see you. Maybe it doesn't come around that often, or maybe it comes often and frequently in such tiny ways that we can't anticipate or appreciate enough until they've built into such a succession over time, but regardless, it means everything to me. There's something so simple and true about being able to speak and be heard, and to listen and to hear in equal measure. It will always be a balancing act, but being able to take part at all- ay, that's the spice of life, isn't it lads?

[leikeliscomet]

(Repost from twitter)

SPOILERS!

So I watched Douglas is Cancelled...

Boomer humour isn't for me 🤷🏾‍♀️ This isn't exclusively in DIC but the gen z activist trope relies on 'this person cares about social issues & uses the buzzwords point & laugh!!1' and that's just dry and reactionary to me. Basically gen z parody from actual gen z is just >> Ep 4 is the only time Claudia gets some interesting characterisation but it feels backhanded cus she's written as a hysterical illogical teen but now the other characters do too and *now* it's bad? I guess...

Tied to that there's a 'joke' about her saying a list of where gay people are executed is racist & this accusation makes her illogical but its established 1 ep prior Toby *is* racist bc he assumed the South Asian writer was the driver The punchline punches down. Tied onto the weird racism gags I think it bleeds into how the POC in the show have the important role of um... nothing? Morgan gets his screentime writing the joke, balancing racism he experiences as a MOC but how he can reinforce misogyny. But for the WOC? Its crickets.

For a so called feminist show *none* of the WOC play any big role apart from supporting Claudia, Madeline & Sheila in a way. Jenn gets the most w/ her recording but again it's for another character. Minus Bill, Moffat's got a track record of this so I'm not surprised icl 🤷🏾‍♀️This show has parallels to Dot and Bubble. If u know me that is *not* a compliment. It uses comedy & campness as a build up to the-real-issue.mp4 & I'm over this "technique" of "progressive writing" I'd rather focus on the victims/survivors over the people doing the coercion. Moffats aim was allegedly to pull in the right wingers, bait em & switch. Douglas is the MC until its actually Madeline. It just highlights the problem of marginalised stories that decentre marginalised ppl. It relies on the viewer empathising w/ misogyny... from a man's POV...

I wanna like Madeline's plan more but its the set up that stops me from doing so, bc the show insists it needs Douglas as the focus b4 we can care about her. 'Madeline is Struggling' about women's come up in TV wouldn't have slapped for Brexit twitter so instead it's this 🥴

Hope Moffat has a lil self awareness. Is he aware any woman who spoke on the misogyny of his writing was treated as hysterical & illogical as Madeline was? The SA jokes he wrote reinforced the same sexual entitlement of Toby?His stans call him feminist for the bare minimum like the men in Douglas do? That Toby proves being an 'omni bigot' is possible? That unlike Douglas his ism/phobe allegations haven't stopped his bag but ppl that are women/queer/of colour struggle in his same industry? Is he?

The response to this show has what what call The Giggle syndrome (not a compliment). The show/stans demonises its audience. If u critiqued The Giggle dw stans said u had The Giggle. Douglas stans think any critical reaction of the show is cancellation. It gasses itself up.It's a self cleaning cycle. Like Madeline's tweet ironically. Douglas is Cancelled is feminist until it doesn't need to be anymore. Its 'a powerful Me Too commentary' AND just a silly lil show stop cancelling everything haha. Moffat can be progressive until it's hometime.

I'll say something nice: Karen Gillan and Alex Kingston ate down. Nice to see them in non doccy who media. I kinda wished Sheila got less shouty dialogue cus it felt a bit much at times but either way they carried the performances! Lovely gowns beautiful gowns!

Tl:Dr Douglas is Cancelled is *Sheila voice* OK. Its not bad. But it's not groundbreaking either. But it *really* wants to be.

If u want a drama show on themes like Me Too, SA and coercion that's written by women then Clique, I May Destroy You and Mood are right there.

[ace-the-fox]

*indulges in any kind of media*

*grows attached to any character*

"Ok, but like... what if they had a kid??"

He was originally a jonadam fankid before I learned that was a no-no for Ty and Alex's boundaries (hence why the text is a lil weird, bc I had to cut some bits out lol). But I still really liked him, and it was an easy fix in terms of the small plot he has, so it's fine. There's probably still implied mpreg in this (pls forgive me for my sins), just to keep that plot actually. (Maybe he's also Evelin's kid? In a non-ship way? His name would make twice as much sense...)

ANYWAYS, transcript of basic facts under the cut (added a few bits and pieces to most points)!!

Name: Cain Morgan (formerly Annabelle. I usually wouldn't give any trans character of mine's deadnames as basic fact, especially as a cis person, but I did it for the religious reference. It's a stretch, but it's there.)

14 years-old

Transgender FTM.

Found in a bin on the street as a newborn (like minutes old) by the police, before being adopted.

His adoptive parents aren't particularly unkind, but aren't great. They're pretty transphobic, and don't take any potentially worrying behaviours all that seriously.

He's just a li'l guy really <3

Aspiring photographer

Is alternate-ism genetic?? Is he like half an alternate??? Alex explain- /hj

[pessimisticsarc]

NAVIGATION

RUST COHLE

Aesthetics Art Backstory Desires Headcanons Introspection Physique Isms Soundtrack Visage Wardrobe

TIMELINE

18–23 24–26 32 33–38 40–48 49 Present Day Undercover

PLACES

Alaska Carcosa Louisiana Texas

RELATIONSHIPS

Claire Morgan Martin Hart Sophia Cohle Travis Cohle

DYNAMICS

Family Friendships Relationships

UNIVERSES

Main Berserk Fatherhood Soulless Supernatural Lost Boys The Walking Dead

ACTIVITY

Answered Closed Starter Crack Dashboard Commentary Dashboard Games Interactions Open Starter Prompts

OUT OF CHARACTER

Character Spam Edits Funny OOC Pinned Promotions Saved Self Promotions Wishlist