the steven universe hate is insane bc people are (or at least were) more upset that fictional war criminals got fictional hugs than they recognize that it singlehandedly advanced queer rep in children's media by lightyears and then straight up ate heavy retaliation for the nerve.
It does have real flaws that are worth discussing, but it also put their male protagonist in dresses and skirts and played it straight and even empowering, they aired a lesbian wedding on television, it was a genuinely queer, genuinely diverse piece of media through and through. It did a lot of real good for the real world.
But also the fictional characters caused fictional harm to other fictional characters, and didn't get an onscreen firing squad sentence. So, you know, it's basically ontologically evil in real life.
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people online: hi! nice to see you online how's your day been :)
people in real life: its disgusting that theyre teaching woke and lgbt in the schools now. i don't want my kid to grow up ashamed of being white and a man and not an islamist transgender. i just dont see why all these immigrants cant just go back to their own countries
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re: rugby team ghoap
it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.
goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.
("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)
you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.
or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.
(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)
when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.
cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.
"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.
"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"
the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.
"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."
how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?
"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."
(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)
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How do I make genuine connections with people
When I barely have anything in common with anyone
And almost always been alone
And ... don't mind being alone usually but. Sometimes I want to talk w someone, do something w someone...
It's easy for me to push people away or. Not take any steps... super cautious. I don't trust.
But I also think I donr even know how to make genuine deep connections withpeople. I don't don't know what that is bc I never had it. Getting just below the surface then-- something happens like they move away or lose interest lol or. Maybe I could've gotten somewhere if i would have learned how to form relationships as a kid but Ididn't. It's not like I wasn't around kids a lot even tho I was homeschooled. Something else is wrong with me..
I would often rather be alone ... but now I realize I may need someone, not just rely on parents... not be this freak who floats in nothingness, barely interaction with the real world... how can I possibly catch up... like, learn how to actually do things.... eventually i will need people to help me, physically, emotionally.. and my parents won't be here forever. So.... impossible task to be what imnot. .may not be able to
Sometimes I even want to have a few close friends (again, I barely know what that is)
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Just deleted the ask I was trying to respond to, but re: "skeptics always die in horror movies" - I have mixed feelings on that trope!
On the one hand I think it sets the tone and helps the audience suspend their disbelief - people are always complaining about horror movie characters being idiots, so this can be a way to be like "see? We DID consider rational explanations, and then someone immediately got murdered very supernaturally, so stop asking questions and accept the premise."
On the other hand, I think it definitely contributes to the idea that skeptics are close-minded killjoys who are too stubborn to accept reality, which is a very common and incredibly annoying mindset. Shane Madej did not spend the last eight years marching into haunted houses and loudly demanding that the demons inside kill him for me to still be hearing shit about how "if you don't take the supernatural seriously you will Attract Evil Energies And Die".
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I do think Blazing Saddles handled its one depiction of native americans very poorly, and the full extent of its representation of chinese workers on the railroad is they were literally just there. not even one single speaking line. unclear if this is worse or better than the redface.
it's fucking phenomenal at lampooning antiblack racism though. extremely blatant, extremely funny satire, which is constantly and loudly saying "racism is the philosophy of the terminally stupid at best and morally depraved at worst, and we should all be pointing and laughing at them 24/7"
plus the main character is a heroic black man who has to navigate a whole lot of bullshit but is constantly smirking at the extraordinarily stupid racists and inviting the audience into the joke. the one heroic white character is a guy who was suicidally depressed until he met the protagonist and they just instantly became buds, and he's firmly in a supporting role the whole time and happy to be there. the protagonist saves the day with the help of his black friends from the railroad, and uses the position of power he was given to uplift not only those friends, but all the railroad workers of other minorities too, in an explicit show of solidarity.
anyone saying "Blazing Saddles is racist" had better be talking about its treatment of non-black minorities. it had better not be such superficial takes as "oh but they say the n-word all the time" or "they have nazis and the kkk in there!" because goddamn if that's the full extent of your critique I very seriously suggest you read up on media analysis. there is too much going over your head, you need to learn to recognize satire.
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