#I don't care if they shame me

[bookworm28]

What if I want to be a e-girl/slut/ porn star?

I am so burnt out. I am so tired of the rat race. I have having to get up and work so the rich keep getting rich and everyone else just barely makes it. I’m done being “good”. I have been living in the box they put me in my whole life. “I’m a lady”. I sit properly, I never dress immodestly, I don’t try to flaunt my body. Just like they told me. People still sexualized me and tried to shame me for how my body naturally looks. I could be wearing an outfit that covers my whole body and someone will still make sexual comment on my breast or body. I can’t help how my body looks. 

My parents who gave me this body would say snide little comments or out right shame me for  “showing off my assets” or being fat. I can’t control how large my breast grow or how clothes sit on my body. They would get me clothes that don’t fit then, shame me for being fat. Now I look back on photos from that time and cry. I was never fat. I was thick or even chubby stuffed into ill fitting clothes. My body was developing and growing. I hated myself so much during that time that I wanted to die. It felt wrong to look the way I did. I would even been harassed by my peers if I wore something that accentuated my body. No one ever looked at me twice so I dressed frumpy to hide not only my body but the shame I felt for looking the way that I do. It was easier to tell myself that I was fat and ugly than confront the fact that the people around me failed me and set me up for failure. The day I realized I was never fat and that there was no shame in being me I broke down. I cried for hours at all the wasted time. All the times I hid from picture. The fear of eating in front of other and being seen as fat. It was like a wind blew away some of the pain and the vail lifted. Slowly but surely i began to accept myself.

I was able to admit that I love sex and have been fascinated by it since I was a kid. The porn stars/sex workers seemed beautiful and confident. They respected each other, their bodies and they made a lot of money. I thought sex work seemed a little scary but beautiful and freeing. I wished I could be as free as they were. I was a late bloomer due to the fear of being taken advantage of and from being shamed into thinking that it was wrong for a woman to want pleasure like that. I used to think I was someone who was truly unlovable due to my appearance. How could anyone love a fat girl? How could anyone want me? they only want me because of my boobs or vagina but they don’t actually want ME. Is what I used to think all the time.

I had a small porn addiction to cope with the shame of not expressing myself. I fell into debauchery just to try and figure out how to please myself. The shame of it all became part of the pleasure. It made me feel something other than disgust for myself. I was watching hardcore BDSM just to feel something, ANYTHING before I was even 12. I wanted to look and stare at their bodies, see their expression as they lost themselves to the pleasure. I was jealous and envious. I eventually figured out how to please myself by the time I was 17 and I had sex for the first time at 20. I felt so late to everything. Even now everyone tells me how men/women would love my body and how attractive it is but I still struggle to find beauty in myself. I just see all the parts I’ve wanted to cut off since I was a child and people say they love that. 

I admit that I want to be a sex worker. I don’t want a 9-5 job that kills my soul. I don’t want to be a “good girl” who listens to what others tell her. I don’t want to live in the box anymore, feeling like it’s wrong to be myself. I love sex. I’m good at sex. I like sucking dick and fucking. Watching someone lose themselves to pleasure gives me pleasure. I want to be a stripper and flaunt the body I was shamed into hiding. I want to be a whore and fuck for money. I want to be a porn star and fuck beautiful people and get paid for it. I want to feel free and move past self judgment. I want to enjoy myself and get paid for it. There is no reward for being a good and moral person. I have worked so hard to live up to the standards they gave me and still failed. Even when I did everything right, followed their rules, lived the life they planned for me and I was still scolded, ignored, and neglected. I never got a reward for doing what they wanted barely even a pat on the back. Just more “advice” on how I could’ve done better.

So now I'll take things into my own hands. I’ll do what I want. I’ll be safe and smart. I’ll find mentors and go to munches to learn. I’ll do everything I want and more. I’ll love myself unconditionally. I’ll have pleasure and make money. There is nothing wrong with wanting a life for myself that no one one else in my family has. As long as I am free, happy, and paid I don’t think I need much else.                                                                                                                                          

[katsy-kitty]

Me to myself at work:

Be like Hannibal. No shame.

You didn't know something? Not your problem. You know it now -- okay, whatever.

You missed someone's e-mail? Apologize and move on. No big deal.

You didn't do something you were supposed to because no-one had trained you? No shame. The company's fault.

NO SHAME AT WORK

You don't have to give your 100% because it's gonna kill you.

Take breaks, take care of yourself and remember: fuck grind culture.

[mamawasatesttube]

this might be mean but. it really ticks me off when people respond to authors and artists wishing for actual community and engagement with their works by saying "oh but you see im just so anxious i cannot offer you any kind words." with the optional "but do please keep making things for me anyway!" because like...

a) do you understand how anxiety-inducing it can be to pour a little piece of your soul into a work of art and share it publicly? i feel like you don't see the people creating these things as people like you and that is an issue. we are people who just really love a thing and want to talk about it with other people who also love that thing.

but moreover, and this is the part that might be mean, b) damn why doesn't your anxiety prevent you from making excuses to us then? i wish it did! like if you're SO anxious about a fic author blocking you for saying something nice, why are you not anxious about getting blocked for telling that author "okay but i don't want to comment on your works though"??? because i can tell you which of these two things is way more likely to piss me off and it isn't the comment.

like. idk man. if you really don't want to comment on and engage with people's creative works, no one can force you to. but also consider maybe not commenting on and engaging with those people's posts just to explain that you don't want to comment on/engage with their works. if you are so committed to staying quiet and being a passive consumer then commit to the bit and stop asking creative people who put way more of themselves out there than you are to pat you on the back and reassure you that you'll still keep getting free content even if you can't do so much as drop a "this was really good!" in the comments.

[celtrist]

I really want to see a more fucked up version of Charlie in canon. Like, okay, I am a die-hard for sweet bubbly girls in media. But I always see how some people make Charlie actually, oh I dunno... demonic? And it's so refreshing for her type of character. I could honestly see her having low empathy (and we kinda see this with how she handled Angel's situation or even Vaggie's nervousness about taking control on an activity). An exploration of that trait (if it was intended) would be interesting to see for a protagonist, especially when her main goal is about helping others. I would love to see her actually have a level of difficulty in understanding others' feelings from the other residents, sinners, and even her father.

But give her a fucked up side. Not a "she gets more power when she's angey uwu", but a "oh, she's a little fucked in the head". It would give so much to her character that she just doesn't have.

@/murmurmurena (don't wanna bother them so slash there we go) has some fun ideas with Charlie. I highly encourage people to check their stuff out! So many fun dark ideas with her character while also still keeping to her canon personality pretty well! Personally, I think Charlie being a bit more naive to her own messed up traits would work best but her also being aware of these traits can make for some interesting character for her.

THIS FIC, "A Game Between You and I". RIGHT HERE WITH THE FIRST CHAPTER. A bit of spoil for the fic here: but I love how they handled Charlie’s absolute ignorance as to why the idea of Russian roulette is horrifying to Angel Dust. It doesn't feel like her being intentionally malicious or aware that she's the odd man out here. This is also a pretty old fic going by only the pilot, but the point still stands that it was such a fun take for her character!

Charlie is one of my favorite characters in the show in part of the POTENTIAL she could have as being the most bubbly sweetheart character while also being the most messed up character in the show. I can't say I have strong confidence with the show's writing and fully expect them to stick with Charlie being the "nice girl but oh no, don't get her angry or she gets scarwy". Which isn't bad for a character mind you, there's just so much more potential to Charlie outside of that trope, especially when you get into the theories of her either being a doll, Roo's biological daughter, or what have you. And for the MAIN CHARACTER of the show, it would be not only interesting but also bring the spotlight back to her.

There's really no question that the side characters steal the show, particularly all the male characters. If I'm honest, Charlie does not feel like she gets a lot of love from the show itself when she's supposed to be the main character. She feels far more flat compared to the rest of the characters (again, the male cast in this "female-lead" show has more depth than most of the female cast currently. I wouldn't be pointing this tidbit concerning the genders of characters if it weren't for the fact Viv defended Helluva's lack of development with their female cast by saying "Hazbin is a female-lead show and Helluva is a male-lead" and Hazbin ended up with it not feeling female lead (to me) and the male cast just completely stealing the show. I don't normally care about gender stuff, especially since I do personally lean interest towards male characters. But using one show as a defense for poor development of the female characters, and then that show not really holding up with no very interesting well-developed feeling female characters irritates me. It's just very clear that these shows don't seem to care much about the female cast :/)

If you like how Charlie is written that's totally fine. PERSONALLY, I just think they're missing so much opportunity with her character by just making her the standard female character type. I honestly don't have a lot of faith they'll actually do something with Charlie's character though. She's a pretty static character in S1 being the same from start to end. Not changing or learning anything to create any development. What does the end of season Charlie do that start of season Charlie wouldn't do? Fight back? Because we see with the pilot (which is the “first episode”) that Charlie does fight people if pushed like with Katie Killjoy and even Valentino. Static characters can work in media depending on the show or their role. But Charlie is the MC of a show about “bettering one's self”. So to have her as a static with not a lot of strong dilemmas for herself (like we see with Angel Husk Al and even Vox) seems silly. Plus, considering Hazbin is telling a whole story and it's not a fun episodic thing, characters are expected to grow on some level. Or else, what was the point of their hero's journey?

[lore-gore]

I think the reason us helluva boss/hazbin hotel fans get so defensive about criticism is because a lot of the "critics" just hate vivzie and the shows themselves. It's come to the point that any criticism for this show feels like an angry mob. In any other fandom I'm fine with criticism, but the fact that "critics" have said that they can't wait for viv's downfall + even wished that she died has made me hostile towards it. Haters have taken over the critique part of the fandom and turned it into a cesspool of disgusting rage. That level of hate towards a creator is unfathomable. Why do they think this is okay?

[adustoflove]

I always think well if I dated a man, I wouldn't feel as insane. I wouldn't feel so awful or jealous. And then I remember why I came to the conclusion that I'm a lesbian. I just wouldn't care if it were a man. I just can't bring myself to care about men like that 😔😩😭

[iceclew]

Did I accidently write more than just a few lines of dialogue for this scene?... *shyly fumbling with fingers* 🥹👉👈 maybe...

Sorry, I suck at words and this isn't betaread nor properly proofread and I am not native english, I'm very sorry in advance...

full story down below

(Chappel Roan - Love me Anyway)

(Benson Boone - Slow it Down)

"VICE-CAPTAIN!!!!"

The tiny moving plush-like thing in his hand apparently started screaming as well now.

"WHY ALWAYS MEEE!?!?"

What looked like the chibi mini-version of the Defence Force's biggest trump card, struggled to hold on his thumb, kicking around those little feet of his.

"Well, now I'm quite curious abut THAT story..."

"I CAN'T TURN BACK AND I AM T I N Y !!! (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )"

"I see that... How'd you even get in here?"

Tiny #8 stopped fidgeting a bit. Instead two unproportionally big round dark eyes goggled at him. It was undeniably adorable to look at. "Well after THIS happened, I couldn't grab my phone on the table anymore, so I ran around to find someone, but I figured Narumi and Kikoru would very likely take advantage of my situation and do something stupid with me."

"Oh yeah, they definitely would and I get why, honestly."

"So I ran around to find you, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BIG THE 1st DIVISION IS, WHEN YOU'RE LIKE THIS, OK?! And then I saw the slightly opened window and just crawled in... ༼☯﹏☯༽"

"Wait... you know where my temporary place in the 1st Division is located? Why?"

"....Coincidence? (*ﾟｰﾟ) "

He sighed. "Well just when you think you saw everything...Kafka Hibino enters the stage..."

"SIR, WHAT SHOULD I DO?? WHY ARE THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPENING TO ME??"

"you really want me to answer that, bud?", he barely tried to hide the undertone of his voice, which left the small creature on the palm of his hand baffled for a second.

"Wha-? HEY, MEAN!! What are you on about!?"（＞д＜）

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know STOP CHANGING in general, like I told you f.ex.. or maybe stick to your training routine without going OVERBOARD on a regular basis? How 'bout that?"

The big dark round eyes got even bigger with every word spoken.

"Yeah, don't look at me like that, I might coincidently got wind of stuff, you know?"

His unexpectedly open and emotional response threw Kafka off. For a second he forgot about his *tiny* main problem, his mind jumped between confused and worried and he couldn't comprehend with his reaction for now. After some awkward seconds in silence, Hoshina's tone grew significantly calmer, but still sort of off to his usual self-assured expression. "Well at least this time you're actually telling me about stuff that bothers you, huh?"

Silence again. While hanging from the palm of his Vice-Captain's hand Kafka realized something (besides his size) was different. His senses grew more aware of his surroundings to find answers.

"Are... are you drunk, sir?"

Besides the slight scent of alcohol in the air, and the - well quite obvious - bottle of sake on the table, the startled twitch on his face confirmed Kafka's guess was right. Other than the sake the only other thing on the table were some snacks. Another odd thing to Kafka, who was used to see Hoshina's surroundings stuffed with documents, loose papers, books and other work related things.

The silence lingered around them uncomfortably. To Kafka's suprise Hoshina was seemingly struggling with words. A look on his face Kafka couldn't remember seeing before. Now his mind definitely jumped to 'worried'.

Hoshina tried to mimic an insulted face and looked away. "A little tippsy at most... I'm off-duty for tonight.." Besides the slightly blushed nose and cheeks, Kafka now noticed some dark circles under red eyes. "..and despite my gut telling me better, I assumed I probably won't be needed anymore today, and that I could hang loose a little. It's not my Division after all, there's another Captain and Vice-Captain in charge here. So I might as well make use of that chance... Should have known, it would end up that way or another.. " He smiled a bit and Kafkas felt like his heart clenching from the sight. "Although I definitely should have placed my bet on YOU to be the reason for that." He chuckled lightly, while his expressions grew somewhat softer.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Nah, it's fine. As if I didn't get used to your-"

"I never put much thought to it, but ever since the Defence Force started preparing for the big counter attack on #9 your workload must've at least doubled in the 3rd and 1st Division.. and here I am still taking over the rest of your time as well..."

"Don't like where this is going, officer... You're not starting pitying me, are ya?"

"No I-...I just feel like.. I didn't realize, and there for not appreciated your work enough.." Silence. "And also.." The tiny kaiju had his look glued to the floor in front of him for a while now. "I know you told me to brush it off earlier but,... I truly regret ... not telling you about... #8 n'stuff.. I'm sorry... I'd change that if I could.."

A small plushy-sized Kaiju was gently put back on the ground again. Hoshina scratched his nose for a second, before bending far back to the other side of the room. He grabbed for his smartphone that was burried in piles of carelessly pushed aside documents.

"As I said. You're here now, aren't ya?" When he got his phone he chose to stay laid down on the floor and started typing something on the lightened screen.

A tiny transformed Kafka carefully made his way around and walked up on eye-level with Hoshina's face again. Once again overwhelmed by his current state of being, he let himself fall back on the floor and sat on the ground. "So... what should I do?"

"The first thing WE do is trying to make some calls. But since you seem to be in no life-threatening condition, we might have to wait 'till tomorrow for a first medical examination. If that's the case you'll stay, and I get you down to the lab first thing in the morning."

"Wait!" The tiny Kaiju made a suprisingly far jump right up to Hoshina's chest and pressed the (for him very big) red hang-up button on the screen with both paws. "You're right about that, I won't die this second from being tiny, so we might as well wait for tomorrow."

The questioning look on the opposite's face made a tiny Kafka look away and scratch his neck shyly. "Well, since you're ... I dunno,... I feel like, I can't have you be seen d-dru- .. like this by other officials of the 1st Division, b-because of me..."

A finger poked his forehead, which caused a tiny being like him to fall right back landing on warm soft fabric of Hoshina's shirt.

"Idiot. But you might be right about that."

[furiousgoldfish]

I wrote a very pained, depressive and dark post, even maybe too dark for this blog, but I ultimately decided to publish it, just because this pain has always been invisible in me, and I want to be able to say something. If you're going to read it, there's a lot of mention of death and contemplation of suicide in it, and a lot of painful emotion. Maybe someone will resonate with it and find words to describe their own pain. I also want to note that even though every word of it is true, I am most of the time completely dissociated from this, I'm not actively thinking it, and it came out now because my parents are actively trying to find me and disrupting the life I've tried to make for myself.

What my parents did to me is worse than death, they erased me. When I escaped I didn't know who I was, I had no hope to survive, I didn't think I was worth anything, I felt ashamed to even exist. I was suicidal, i thought I'd be dead within a month even if I don't do it myself. I didn't think I had it in me to survive, to be alive, to be anything. I was a less than a ghost, I didn't even have memories to remember of who I once was because there was no warm memories, only violence, blame, guilt, shame, pain, terror. I was supposed to be a person, and they put me in a state where I knew nothing about being a person, only property and a target, it was my entire life. I was told I deserved this, I was a monster, there was never anything else that is correct to do to me, but hurt me. I thought it was my job to be endlessly harmed. They knew I was suicidal and didn't stop. The only reason I didn't kill myself was the dissociative disorder that functioned like a suicide prevention measure, I physically could not have done it because I have been split into pieces and one of the pieces prevented me from doing it. I would have died otherwise.

What would a quick violent death be compared to this? A fucking blessing. I was slowly tortured until I was willing to kill myself in order to end it. They didn't want to dirty their hands with my murder, they planned on torturing me until I did it to myself. I had an intense drive to survive despite everything, and even that was getting erased. My basic instincts were being erased by the amount of pain I was in. My personality was gone, I didn't even have a personality, it was all overwhelmed by pain and desperation to both survive and end it all, I walked trough life looking death in the face the entire time, it felt so close, so close to me, like it would claim me any second, but I had to stay stoic, calm, me staring down death had to be invisible, I couldn't let it show. It shouldn't have mattered to anyone what I was experiencing. I was torn between life and death, stuck in constant anticipation of it and it couldn't have mattered.

Take a person, any person, imagine them having a life, family, friends, interests, hobbies, desires, dreams, loved ones, support, community. Now imagine that same person isolated, everything stripped away from them, and them being hurt until they can no longer remember anything they wanted to live for. Even their basic instinct to survive is stripped frm them as pain is too large for them to be able to sustain themselves, there's no longer anything in this person's life worth living for, nothing they remember about who they were, no warm thought they can think about themselves, and they're repeatedly told they deserve this, they've wanted this. Until there's nothing of them left.

That was me, but from the start. I didn't get to experience having a life, family, loved ones, interests, dreams, community, or any of that first, I didn't get to know how it was to have any of that! From the very start it was pain and being told that this is all there is, and that I'm stupid for ever thinking there would be anything more to life, that it is in fact, only terror and death and I'm a weakling for not taking it better, everyone else is dealing with this just fine. Shame and guilt were the only traits I could have, I didn't know anything further about me. Nobody knew me because nobody saw me being abused. Nobody could know I was worthless, it had to be my private hell. I would have to live only to the point where it was decided that it was enough and I had to die, or until the point where I couldn't take it anymore and take my own life, even though I so strongly didn't want to, even that basic desire was tempered with and overwritten by pain.

Who would want a life like that? Life of not only being aware that nobody cares about you, but everyone around you is willing to inflict pain on you until you wish to die, but can't. Where crying and screaming is forbidden even when you can't breathe from the amount of pain you're in; you're not even allowed to cry out. You fight with yourself every day on how badly you want to die and why you can't, and it doesn't help, you get lost in magical thinking in order to escape from the hell you're in, but you're brutally reminded of it every time you interact with anyone, when they find you hiding under the bed and dreaming. You don't even know that you're supposed to have loved ones, be safe, be unharmed, that life is supposed to be different, that you're not alive only to be a target, that you're worth anything. You don't even know that you're supposed to have more freedom in life than to choose the manner and time of your death, this is all that's dealt to you. And now, live, see how far you can get before you die. Would anyone choose that? Would anyone decide to be born into a life like that? Wouldn't you choose not to exist at all rather than be put trough that? To be erased and then having to keep on living while thinking you in fact, deserve death, and should do it yourself, and you know if you do die, it won't matter, just like your life didn't? Because people around you regularly nearly kill you and then laugh about it like it was a funny joke? They humiliate you for how ugly you look close to death? You're scared that your last moment will be humiliation for how unseemly your corpse looks and you're hoping you'd be able to die alone, to not be berated as you're dying.

Death is nothing to me compared to this. Waiting to die is worse than death. Endless anticipation of pain is worse than death. Having everything about you erased by pain is worse. Not knowing anything about yourself except that you are incredibly shameful existence and that you need to feel guilty all of the time, is worse. Watching people around you receive care and warmth while you're stuck watching death in the face silently, pretending it's not happening, and trying to not have anyone's attention on yourself because someone noticing means more pain, more shame and guilt. It's worse. Kill me any fucking day. But this will always be worse. Every time I face the reality of my life I wish I had died in the womb, at childbirth, I wish I had died when I was 1, 2, 3, 5, 10, 12, any time before I experienced all this. It would have been so much less pain. It would have been so much easier on me.

And I've already given up on ever having a place in anyone's heart, because at this point, I don't have it in me to make people love me. I have nothing about me that is other people find worth caring for, I made peace with it. There will be no loved ones, and thats fine. But at least then I should get to live my life alone the way I want it. I should find joy in being who I found I am, and doing what I want to do. I should get to do things that give me a little bit of pleasure and enjoyment, and I should be safe, and death should no longer come knocking at my door, staring me down like I owe it something. If I can't even have that, then to hell with everything. What is the fucking point of anything if all my life is a continued slow torture until I can no longer bear it. I have nobody to bear it for, nobody would be harmed by my death. But I also don't deserve to die, because I want to live, and this should be mine. Who the fuck dares to try and take this away from me again. I want to fucking explode. If I have to make my own justice then how do I do it. I literally just want to live. And I see other people having at least that much secured for them. Why can't I at least have that much. I am seriously asking for the bare fucking minimum.

[radley-writes]

I don't understand people who say things like 'but it doesn't matter if we don't pay artists/writers for their labour, or use free AI programs to replace artists/writers to improve our profits, because in a perfect world everyone would have UBI so it wouldn't matter xxx'

like. yes. but until we reach that perfect world, artists and writers need to eat?

why are you promoting AI replacement of creative people instead of working towards UBI? Until we have UBI, supporting generative AI in the creative field is no different to supporting supermarkets laying off all their till staff to turn to self-check out, or supporting factories who shut down and move overseas to exploit workers in countries with fewer human rights legislations?

Yes, in a perfect world, everyone would receive UBI. Therefore, people across the globe couldn't be exploited by corporations, and artists could create for the joy of it, in whatever way we desire - including with AI!

But we do not live in that perfect world.

Do you seriously expect this move towards generative AI to encourage people to support UBI, as opposed to people being forced into jobs they hate to make ends meet or no longer being able to support themselves financially?

Especially all the disabled people who make a living creating art and writing/editing, because that is, in fact, a career that is often far more available to disabled folks than a regular 9-5 or a retail job where you're expected to be on your feet all day (miss my disabled ass with the 'anti-AI = ableism' stance lmao).

This is not going to create your army of revolutionaries. This is just going to result in more independent creators being crushed under the boot heel of capitalism, as anyone who would've hired them flocks instead to the free alternative, and they're forced back into an incredibly exploitative labour market.

I agree that generative AI by itself is just a tool and is not inherently a problem.

But it is being abused, in ways that hurt creators.

If you support generative AI... what are you doing about that?

[girl-drink-drunk]

still nutty to me how people's legit trauma from things that main characters do are just swept under the rug or mocked. william kaplan, a thirteen year-old boy who didn't do anything, is killed in a car accident and no one even knows because billy/teen took over his body (i'm not blaming him at all i doubt it was on purpose, but a boy did die and no one knows). sharon davis was roped along to the road, mocked the entire time, killed, and then mocked some more. ralph bohner is the closest we get to someone actually saying "what happened was a nightmare and it fucked me up," but even his story is full of jokes that are only made tragic because evan peters is delivering them in such a way that it's clear that it's because he's that mentally unhinged from what happened. the mcu is a place where people get hurt and are made fun of because they couldn't stop it

[theghostinabadbook]

My children!! Look at them!! They are together again!! And happy!!

[rapidhighway]

venting like an idiot

the main reason i dont wanna go back to uni is that i feel like i've completely embarrassed myself last year. idk, i feel horrified at the thought of returning and looking these people in the eye. i didn't do anything, i was lazy and barely finished my projects and the only way to redeem myself somehow would be to come back with some new energy and work hard. i didn't even really get a job this summer because i really wanted to rest, cause i thought i would drop out. and i just feel worse, i feel even more tired

[novantinuum]

continually annoyed by how every single post i've seen supporting the notion that "the journal pages in BoB were fakes" just feels like thinly veiled anti material

[djevelbl]

hear me out y'all:

THIS rendition of Sincerely Me (which is GREAT btw) - but it's the LifeStealers--

[diskusaurus]

The Watcher apology is cool. I really thought they wouldn't apologize or change things for a hot minute there and I am happy to be proven wrong. I'm glad they listened, realized their mistake and took action.

However, this whole thing really made me realise, personally, that I didn't enjoy their content anymore before this either. I think I continued watching and supporting them mainly because I wanted them to succeed and because I was hoping to relive the fun I had with Unsolved. I may still drop by for some shows here and there, but otherwise, I'm out.

[frootbyethefoot]

collateral damage on all sides

[ID: a digital drawing of chiaki nanami and nagito komaeda from super danganronpa 2. chiaki is looking down sadly as she holds a bottle. nagito is beside her, smiling, and guiding her hand to the bottle. his fatal injuries from chapter five are colored in bright pink. the bottle has a similar bright pink smoke streaming from it, while the background is completely black. END ID/]