#VERY frustrated... VERY upset...

[apoapsis]

@femtaile said, ❛  you still have doubts about it.  ❜

              There's something so intrinsically wrong with this– but it's as if he's the only one who sees it, and he couldn't fathom how to elaborate as to what, fundamentally, made it so wrong.

He should be more grateful, being granted the permission to orchestrate his grief upon society en masse– just as he and SIEBREN had obsessed and fantasized for years over. Worse yet, it felt so good, malling flesh and steel as if they were paper mache, basking in the collective terror of any whom his shadow cast upon. How, exactly, did one explain the finer nuances of what was so unpleasant about this when he repeatedly allowed his self-restraint to fall victim to his own gluttonous desire for violence?

If anyone was sick here– it really was him, wasn’t it…?

Maybe that’s what makes him so unpopular with his coworkers; perhaps they thought him to possess some inflated sense of moral superiority– only to watch him turn and maul any object placed within his teeth. It seemed difficult to like someone who continuously claimed to desire their approval, yet balked at every opportunity to earn said favor. In reality, SIGMA is just as frustrated as the rest of them, at the amount of intervention required exclusively to ensure the mission concludes successfully. To anyone else, it would be no surprise– what more did TALON expect from placing someone so inexperienced in his classification? It’s humiliating that SIGMA had allowed his opponent any chance to recover whatsoever, let alone that Widowmaker had had to step in to dispatch his target for him. Again.

In reality, the trip to the cabaret had been purely of his own volition– something mundane, to try and quiet the static frequencies interrupting cohesive thought and cognitive function. In fact, SIGMA had been quite convinced that he wouldn’t see the Widowmaker there; after all, while she didn’t follow any particular routine in regards to venturing out there, there were always patterns in her behavior, if he was patient enough for them to eventually, inevitably, present themselves. Unusual of him to utilize it to avoid her, in fact, he often hyperfixated upon it to better familiarize himself to her– but he’s still bothered. Upset. Angry.

Hard to determine if the anger was self-reflective, or directed towards her– but he’s upset.

A small part of him wondered if, perhaps, she’d known he’d intended to come here; ah, but what would it matter if she had…? She hated him just as much as the rest. Perhaps she intended to deprive him of what little sense of leisurement he possessed, but she was so impassive all of the time, it seemed unlikely she cared enough to go out of her way. It’s relatively easy to select the Widowmaker from the crowd when one knew what to look for; at times, he was genuinely impressed by how easily she seemed to blend into the background despite her bizarre mannerisms and other eccentricities. Like her motif, she secludes herself off to the outer edges of the establishment, well out of the eye of inattentive patrons– however, the moment he spies her, SIGMA is quick to excuse himself from his own table. Actually, he’s so hasty to leave, he nearly forgets the prepaid card Sombra had gifted him, leaving him a little flustered as the waitron practically chases him down to return it. The evening air nips at him as the card is haphazardly tucked away into his jumpsuit’s chest pocket– however, he starts a little when the Widowmaker’s quiet, glacial tone cuts the otherwise silent air of the side alley. Ugh. 

“... I do not believe in cruelty.” He retorts dryly, habitually soft lavender eyes narrowing with irritation as he slowly turns to face her. SIGMA grunts, shifting uncomfortably on his feet– shoes were so aggravating to wear with his jumpsuit. “-- And it is against my very nature to harm living things.”

  “-- I do not understand; TALON only indicated a desire in my research– so why, then, am I being asked to do any of this…?”

Of course, he voices the majority of this with the maintenance of safe distance from the other agent; she was easily least likely to retaliate exclusively based upon verbal insubordination, but an inability to read her behavior left an inability to trust her behavior. Yet, despite this, he yearns to trust– both because Sombra attests to her reliability, but because he likes her just the same. That’s what makes him so irritable towards her approach, incapable of determining whether it stemmed from purely professional criticism… or some semblance of empathy, perhaps… Difficult not to feel slighted when the other agents so often failed to show even the most meager shred of empathy for him when he seemed to bleed and bleed with empathy for that which afflicts them.

“I– I-I, ah…” His words die in his throat as he scowls down at her, equal parts frustrated and equal parts saddened. “... I was hoping to get away from the rest of you for a little while– everyone only wants to talk about what I’ve done wrong…” SIGMA laments more openly now, agitation melting back into an oozing, cloying grief that settles upon the atmosphere around him. “... I do still have doubts… Wouldn’t anyone…?” He admits with a sigh, brushing wide, gloved hands against his shoulders and down his forearms, attempting to self-soothe as he begins to pace. “... No one had told me this was part of the contract… A-and failure to comply is grounds for immediate termination…! I am a scientist– why am I hurting people!?” He pauses after completing another circle on anxious feet, stopping in front of her some ways away.

“... Miss Widow, can– c-can you… keep a secret…?” SIGMA speaks up after a moment of muttering to himself, mirroring her vacant, glassy stare almost perfectly for a change. “I, ah… A-aha…. On nights like these, sometimes I– um… I… I wish I was still at the facility…” It felt like a sin, to verbally acknowledge the wretched desire to return to the fetid lair he’d been left to rot alone in. He feels sick even just saying it aloud. “If I had known what I know now, I would have never left that cell.”

But that’s all it is, isn’t it? Wishful thinking– the lot of it.

They both know that TALON had no intention of leaving him alive if he wouldn’t live his life in service; a tool was only as valuable as its use dictated– to not have a use would be the same as being utterly worthless. Oh, how he wished she cared-- could care-- if only just enough to be willing to lie to him and assure him otherwise. That's what friends were supposed to be for, weren't they? Wasn't there supposed to be comfort in commiseration...? And yet, he finds none at all.

To say he was heartbroken would be an understatement.

He’s spiraling again. 

“... I will never see the COLONY again in my lifetime, will I, Miss Widow...? They lied, didn’t they…?”

"... Oh, just what have I gotten myself into...?"

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance - Traverse Town

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[canisalbus]

Currently suffering an ear infection and all I can think is how you said Vasco is prone to them. Does he get miserable and exhausted from the pain or is he more the type to get short tempered and cranky?

.

[sinnbaddie]

To say that Kakashi and Gai’s relationship (talking solely platonic rn) was mostly about him helping Kakashi cope with the loss of Obito is disingenuous to Kakashi and all of his relationships.

Any person is going to be traumatized after seeing someone — much less their teammate — be crushed to death under a rock. Kakashi is shown to be someone susceptible to depression due to 1. His environment 2. His initial beliefs and 3. His genetic line. Of course his life is going to be centered around one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, romanticizing it is so hurtful to his character because it destroyed him - and if Kishimoto actually cared about expanding other character relationships instead of making a “generational duo that falls apart” + wasn’t a misogynistic writer, Rin’s death would be the bigger influence on his life than Obito’s.

Yes, Gai had to help him numerous times in his grief but it wasn’t solely or even mainly about Obito. Rin was an absolute vital point in Kakashi’s downfall into chaos. The self harm he inflicted upon himself, the self hatred, the self shame. He became a whole different person after he was forced to kill her. I would say Kakashi’s father Sakumo is by far the biggest influence on him. He wouldn’t have needed any speech of “your father was a hero” by Obito if it wasn’t for Sakumo. His personality of today is thanks to his father’s own death.

Gai and Kakashi’s friendship is almost entirely about them when they’re in scenes together. Look at the chunin exams, look at any scene in the land of steam arc, look at their race, etc. naturally there will be grief the two bring to the relationship and it’s on them to work it out separately, together and with other people which did happen.

You’re actively ignoring every other character that has shaped and formed who Kakashi is by saying Obito is the biggest and only reason he is who he is. Gai is one of the strongest reasons why Kakashi is as motivated and strong as he is. Kakashi would’ve absolutely died at some point in (general) anbu if Gai didn’t pull him out and he was slipping so far when he was in it because of Rin and Minato.

Kakashi’s heart does not “belong” to Obito because he’s in love with Obito and can’t get over him, his heart belongs to the people he loves because that’s who Kakashi is at his core - a lover. He’s a person who cares so deeply, even for people he doesn’t necessarily like or get along with.

Kakashi is a person who is shaped by everybody in his life, that’s why he is one of the best written Naruto characters. He feels like a real person because real people are influenced by everyone in their life, in every way. It’s unfortunate to see those who call themselves Kakashi fans only to mischaracterize, limit and erase the bonds he was written to have to prop up one single bond for your ship.

Do you care for this character? His themes, parallels, relationships and writing? or is he just a placeholder / self insert for shipping content?

[unfortunatelyilikebnha]

Bnha makes me so mad because it could’ve been good. It had a lot of good aspects. But in the end none of them were satisfyingly resolved so it just feels bad.

[the-woman-upstairs]

It’s just…so painful to watch Armand readily submit in order to obtain the love he so desperately craves. And while it’s most assuredly a manipulative tactic, it’s still one borne out of fear and desperation. He cannot lose this person he’s come to love and so will become whatever they want, do whatever they want just so they’ll stay with him. But it won’t be enough. No matter how much he acquiesces or seeks to control (himself, others, the environment), he won’t be able to make Louis stay with him in the perfect life, perfect self he built in the hopes of finally being loved. It will all crumble with Armand left alone in the rubble of what he created, the author of his own abandonment.

[simplegenius042]

Late WIP Wednesday/Thursday

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @imogenkol

Tagging @aceghosts @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @la-grosse-patate @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @shellibisshe @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @florbelles @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink and @sledge-in-space + anyone who'd like to join.

WIPs for The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles, specifically The Tale Of Mario Emmet and Silva's Hope respectively. You can read these WIPs under the cut:

The Tale Of Mario Emmet is a fic set during the Five Nights At Freddy's: The Silver Eyes. This fic primarily focuses on my original character Mario Emmet, one of my main characters in The Perfect Storm saga and The UnTitledverse series as a whole, his journey of shedding his xenophobia towards others, and companionship with his human friends and eventual romance with Charlie Emily. It also somewhat diverges from the novels however by having "Dave Miller" unable to secure a spot as a night guard for the mall that surrounds "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza" (unfortunately, he will show up later). Mario's first introduction to Charlie and friends was while he was under the guise of a human... his second official introduction is messier and more hostile than the first, as shown below:

[TW: Description of a grotesque inhuman transformation. Very minor violence and blood as of now]

"Where do you think you're going?"

Charlie froze. Dread returned like the force of a freight train. John was quick to twist around, and his reaction confirmed her fear.

Mario was free.

As the others followed John's example, Charlie slowly glanced back to see Mario stepping out of the darkness of the animatronics maintenance room.

He wasn't close to her, separated several feet from each other, a gap that echoed the visceral betrayal of broken trust.

Mario's silver eyes glared into Charlie's brown with that same soul piercing gaze once more. From what Charlie could observe, Mario was hardly tired from the events of the night, nor of his earlier detainment. He held himself tall with determination and grit that matched her own.

"You aren't now, are you?" Mario chuckled, finding the idea incredulous, "After what you've all done tonight? None of you are leaving this building."

Clay took authoritative action immediately, taking his service weapon out to aim at the culprit behind his son's kidnapping and torment. John chose to take the chance to prioritize Charlie's safety over his own, stepping forwards to pull her back.

His initiative was inconvenienced by Charlie's unmoving state, though she was still conscious enough to pace a few steps back with him.

"Mario Emmet, put your hands in the air now!" Clay ordered the night guard, "You are under arrest. Any weapons you have on your person, you are to relieve yourself of them now. If you resist and attempt to endanger the life of civilians further, I will be forced to take lethal action. Do you understand?"

Mario did not shift his focus to Clay, intent on keeping Charlie trapped in their shared eye contact. His features twist to something less angry, and more doleful. He spoke, and Charlie could not help but believe that his words were solely for her to hear.

"Why couldn't you just let it rest?"

Charlie could not find it in herself to speak nor reply, and found herself unable to as John further pulled her behind the chief of police.

Mario soon returned to glaring, shifted his attention to Clay as he scrutinized the wider man.

A tense silence overtook the building; Mario staring down Clay, Charlie being held protectively in John's arms, Jessica supporting Carlton while Marla and Lamar kept their arms defensively on Jason.

From what Charlie could deduce, past Mario's glare was a pensive consideration. She could tell he was weighing his options, in spite of what little opportunity Clay was leaving him with.

Clay's features hardened, as he kept his weapon on Mario with little intent to misfire should Mario prove to be more unreasonable than he was.

As Clay was about to open his mouth to give a warning, Mario broke the tense silence with a sigh, raising his hands up in surrender. It caught Charlie by surprise; it seemed uncharacteristic of him to take such a chance. He didn't have any weapons on him, that she was sure of.

In spite of what should be an uplifting turn of events on the long frivolous night, she couldn't help but feel something felt wrong, but she couldn't figure out why.

Clay released some of the tension he had been shouldering, one hand retreating from his service weapon to reach for his cuffs as he steadily made his way towards Mario.

With Clay's guard weakened, a newfound glint sparked in Mario's eyes.

Charlie noticed it before anyone else, but was unable to efficiently put a stop to Mario's following actions much like everyone else.

Clay had taken a step closer when his shoulder was pierced by a bulky and sharp serrated appendage. It wasn't a hook like Foxy's; more similar to the claws of a praying mantis.

He lost grip of his weapon from the sudden pain of a well-planned attack. The claw separated from Clay, dripping blood to stain the dirty tiles. A red stain grew on his clothes around the wound.

Clay stumbled back, with both Charlie and John forcing themselves to move in order to catch the chief as Carlton called out for his father in alarm.

With Clay groaning and hissing under their arms, Charlie turned her attention back to Mario, and her eyes widened.

The claw retracted to Mario's arm, shifting and breaking apart into his hand. He flexed his hand, rubbing his wrist.

His silver eyes held the group where they stood, most trying to understand the logistics of what just occurred. Charlie, though, was the only one amongst them that came to a conclusion that, while unbelievable, was comprehensible to her.

Mario sighed, sneering at the group with a disdain that, in the short time Charlie knew him, didn't think he was capable of.

"I know that this is... hard for you to come to terms with," Mario stated, and though cold, there was a hint of sincerity, "I know the instinct to run, hide, resist... is coursing through your blood as we speak. Your... fear is evident. And I know you will think this unfair."

Mario took a step forward, the ceiling light above him flickering. Perhaps it was age. Or maybe, Charlie found herself thinking, It is something else entirely.

"After all, it's not your fault that you came here tonight," Mario continued, his voice low but audible, "You were lured here by your grief. Your longing for a friend who was taken from you - unjustly, of course- by a malicious force that held no remorse nor empathy for the victims he left bleeding. For that I cannot fault you. For that, you have my sympathy."

The ceiling lights soon followed the example of the first, all flickering at a pace with no rhythm, no justification given the functional state of the generators.

As Mario continued his slow approach, Charlie and John dragged a pale Clay to the safety of their group. There was a small gasp from within their half-circle, grabbing Charlie's attention like everyone else's.

"The exit!" Jason called out, panic creeping into his tone.

Following where the boy pointed, the group felt dread crawl its ugly head to peek into their hearts as they realized the root of Jason's distress- the broken down bricks that Clay had entered through the restaurant was mended once more into a solid wall.

Their exit was gone - including the sealed door.

"However," Mario gained the groups attention as the atmosphere grew tenser, "In spite of my lenience to allow you to make your peace while you could, you have continuously encroached upon my territory, disrupted my nest. My haven, with little apology and little sincerity in your promises to leave, with an intent to keep coming back. Like your redhead friend, you've all reached too close to the sun little Icarus's. So now, there must be a penalty."

His words became more distorted as he spoke, an echo behind his voice as his body began to twitch as unnaturally as the lights above them.

With each passing flicker, Charlie witnessed how his body changed; the skin on his face hardened and grew pale, his body slimmer till his skin seemed to cling to his bones, like some starved beast. Limbs elongating until he was tall and lank, his uniform morphing into his body as it darkened and changed color.

Claws that weren't too dissimilar to steel broke from his finger tips, as well as femur spines that belonged to an insect protruding from his thighs. His withered into nothing, white stripes forming across his dark limbs.

Despite what she was witnessing - what they all were witnessing - the worst part was the sounds. Hearing flesh tearing like paper, snapping and crunching like bones, and a guttural groan unlike that of a hungry predator was an unsettling experience that sickened Charlie.

The transformation neared its completion, with Mario's head widening to inhuman degrees; his forehead, complimented with a concerning crack on the left, became a discerning appearance, just as his mouth widened too- spread past the limits of an actual human.

Various unnatural features decorated his face and body; the circles imitating rosy cheeks, the pair of twin specks that seemed to emulate brows, red lipstick around the lip-less mouth and the twin trails of blue that ran down to his smile. His no longer wore a uniform; it was instead replaced with a sleeveless buttoned vest that manifested a small cape that reached down to his hips. A flower bloomed on his right side, and a bow tie at his neck.

The last change was his eyes; the white of his sclera melted into the creeping darkness, his silver iris with it. A new pair of eyes replaced them, rolling up from below. His pupils were white instead of black, his irises shined silver with a small darker ring separating the pupil from the bigger, more mesmerizing rings.

His appearance was alien and wrong and... so familiar to Charlie. Perhaps an unfinished animatronic glimpsed in his garage. But this... was warped and personalized in a sense - tailored to fit his preferences. The thought invoked rejection towards the impossibility of the situation; seeking logic that wasn't there as confusion froze her in place.

Everyone else were more afraid than anything else. Except for Mario, who seemed apologetic rather than enthusiastic.

"You have disturbed my nights long enough, taking what little I could grant you. What little I could conserve. And thus, there must be a 'give' to return on your part," Mario stated or... whatever he truly was, with voice littered with guttural snarls and chitters, "Know I did not want this. I'd never think to do this. But you've left me with little choice. I've ignored my hunger long enough. And besides..."

Mario gazed directly into Charlie's shocked brown eyes.

"...you can't fight your nature."

Jessica's hands gripped onto Charlie, pulling her closer to the huddled group as Carlton took over supporting his dad from John. His grey eyes glanced over to the animatronics that were by the sidelines... including the golden bear that Michael was inside.

"Uh... guys," he caught the others attention, directing it to the animatronics on standby.

Until all, with exception to Michael, began to make their way to the hallway.

Why aren't they staying?

"Go join the others Michael," Mario tells the Golden Bear. There seems to be some garbled indiscernible reply from the suit... a protest perhaps?

Though it's seems to be all for naught when Mario snaps back, "Go back to slumber Michael. I'll make this quick."

Michael lingers, but the glint of life in the bear suit's sockets flicker out; darkness cast over the yellow suit.

"Now," Mario growled when he turned his attention to them, clawed tendrils breaking from under his shoulders, as another pair of thin legs extend out from the two limbs, reminiscent of a spider, "It's time to feed."

For Silva's Hope, allow me to present to you Silva's first of many face-offs with one Nadi Sinclair, aka John's right hand (and simp), aka former member of Taskforce 141 (from Call To Arms duology), aka a really good shot! Enjoy below:

[TW: Violence and blood and dead Peggies]

Another shot rang out, the glass of the wrecked ute shattered above her.

Silva scooted away from any openings her unseen attacker had on her, shrunk low while she kept her limbs close to herself.

With another shot, a bullet dented into the ute, but remained strong against her attacker.

She could hear gunfire and shouts from enemies and allies alike, as the peggies assault Fall's End and the valley's Resistance defend themselves.

She inspects her glock, swiftly checking her magazine.

Empty.

Silva banged the back of her head against the vehicle's metal, cursing herself for her shortsightedness.

She puts the glock back into her holster, hand reaching for her knife.

Until a peggie rounded the corner of the ute, shovel in his hands and raising it to hit her.

Surprised, Silva barely had enough time to roll away from the strike. The peggie, who's eyes seem glazed with a misty green, slammed his shovel against the dirt, face etching with confusion.

And clarity once I'm done with him, Silva thought as she brought out her knife, the stone handle feeling right in her gloved hands. As she moved to deliver a killing blow, there was a small part of herself that felt like she was forgetting something.

A familiar bang rang out, and Silva realized she was going to get a painful reminder of the situation she had gotten stuck in to punish her instincts.

Silva doubled over, her knife dropped as the sharp sting was replaced with a burning pain once the bullet excited her bicep. Silva clutched her wound, blood seeping into her gloves. She dropped to the floor when another shot was fired, hitting the ground nearby.

The peggie used her disadvantage to attack, throwing himself onto her. Silva had rolled to her back to counter, but only managed to grip onto shovel's handle.

She quickly realised he wanted to choke her out with it, either to kill her or render her unconscious. Neither was appealing, and opted to keep his shovel from her throat.

Which was proving difficult from the strain of the wound she received from John's sharpshooter, the pressure and applied strength weakening her grip against the ridiculously strong peggie.

As the handle crept closer to her throat, her strength just about ready to give in, a shot rang out.

And the peggie's brain matter and blood sprayed against the white ute, his corpse collapsing onto her.

Shoving it off, she searched for her attacker. Until she recognized a familiar green laser pointer that belonged to her rescuer.

Following the green light, she saw Grace had set herself up on the garage's roof.

Her radio burst to life, Grace's voice piercing through the chaos of gunfire and yells, "You good Deputy?"

Silva let out a relieved huff, hissing when she moved her wounded arm. She used her functional hand to grab the radio and reply, "Got a gunshot wound to the bicep. Went clean through but got nothing to clean it or stitch myself up with. Not to mention-"

A bullet denting the roof of the ute interrupted her, followed by a shot to the hood and the deflation of a tire.

"-I've got this gillipollas hounding after me. How's everything over on your part?"

"Jerome's leading the push back against the Peggie's front assault while Mary May's keeping the wounded inside her bar and restocking any ammo we need," Grace informs Silva as she fires a shot far off from Silva, "John's bodyguard, Sinclair, is holed up on the water tower. I guess neither she nor John were happy with the destruction of their new toy."

Silva could guess she was referring to the Revelator. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she responded, "Can you reach her from your position?"

Grace hummed, but not the affirmative kind, "Negative, and neither can she, though her ire seems more focused on you. However, I can take out the blissed-out peggies running toward your position."

Of course there's more of that guy. Which wouldn't be an issue if she could use both her hands, a loaded gun and didn't have to worry about John's enthusiastic psycho sniper blowing her head off.

Taking slow methodic breaths, Silva used the dropped shovel to safely reach for her knife, managing to return it to her waiting hand as another shot broke off the shovel's spade.

She inquired, "Is there any cover I could run up to?"

"Barely, but enough to be out of Sinclair's scope," Grace affirmed, much to Silva's relief, "I'd advise going for the peggie van furthest to your right."

"Can you cover me?" Silva asked, legs prepped to make a run. Her wound ached, but she forced herself to push back the pain. Gripping her knife with her good hand, she awaited Grace's response.

The radio came to life once more, and Grace assured her, "I've got your back, Dep."

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tom & B'Elanna give off closeted gay vibes in that I think if you asked them to describe their ideal woman and man they would respectively describe a swimsuit model (bonus: who's Not Like Other Girls) and the lead in some sort of romantic novel. Nothing even close to a real person. The most generic you can get about straight romantic and sexual attraction.

[dennistakesamentalhealthday]

dennis is an angry character btw im sorry but he is full of rage but that rage is not exclusive his anger does not negate sadness and fragility and insecurities in fact they work together and dtamhd was one of the first times where his anger was not used as a joke via a surface level rage explosion from him but instead explored the fragility of his anger. the way he keeps reassuring the workers he encounters (and himself) that he's not mad. when he tells daisy he's not mad but he is a little bit upset. dennis is angry and that anger is what makes him so fragile. he was upset and it manifested as rage bc he doesnt know what to do with his own sadness

[uncanny-tranny]

I think there is a difference between "I'm not supporting this incremental change/policy because it will not work/it is not something which will be sustainable even at a small scale," and "I'm not supporting this incremental change/policy because it is not doing absolutely everything I want it to do"

I see this with my fellow USAmericans a lot where there will be a new bill, for instance, that only makes small (but positive!) changes, but because it is an incremental change and not a magical bill that will undo 200+ years of the United States Being Like That, they won't support it. I absolutely sympathize with the frustration that comes from politics, especially because it is slow, tireless, and often thankless, but I really can't emphasize that if you throw in the towel at every opportunity, you can make way for worse outcomes. You don't need to stop at incremental changes, but you also do not want to see the alternatives if you care about your fellow people.

[quietwingsinthesky]

i feel your pain about dot and bubble 😭😭😭 white people understand the worlds most obvious race allegory and racism challenge (impossible)

It Was Not Subtle. Jesus Christ.

ive typed out like four or five different paragraphs about it and deleted them because i just can’t put into words the experience of watching that episode After knowing how everyone reacted to it on airing. there was some part of me that was being overly generous in thinking that Maybe there really was something missable about this, but i’ve seen it now. it’s. you can’t. you can’t possibly miss it. it’s there from minute one and it’s so viscerally uncomfortable being Stuck with lindy while she constantly insults the doctor and ignores him and. god. god.

i think it was the right choice, for the episode, to stage it from lindy’s pov. but i’m also so so aware that it’s putting things from her perspective that’s got to be making some people just. able to be willfully ignorant about it. and i think the sudden wave of ricky september love is the most telling bit because. the thing about ricky. is that lindy likes him. is that he saves her. is that he’s kind and reassuring and sweet to her.

and the thing about ricky is that the one time we see him interact with the doctor. he can’t even look at him except for the one moment where he’s telling the doctor to stop being condescending to him. the same way lindy did earlier.

at the end, it’s very easy for people to turn on lindy. ‘yeah, of course, lindy’s a bitch, lindy’s racist, we all see that now! unlike ricky, who would have changed.’ it feels like. people very easily could cut themselves off from the nasty parts of lindy, proclaim Well, I Would Never Be Like Her, while refusing to acknowledge that they are still empathizing mainly with her and her pov. just pretending that that pov can be taken away from her racism. does that make sense? i’m not sure i’m wording it correctly.

because the episode i watched, i know that last scene wouldn’t have changed if it was lindy or ricky there. the only difference would be that ricky wouldn’t look at the doctor while he was telling him it was his duty to save them but that he was not one of them. lindy was bold enough in her ignorance and hatred to not care. so. idk. closing thoughts, tldr, what a good fucking episode. shame about the people who think the only thing you have to do to not be racist is to be ashamed and aware of it as you continue on acting the same way you would have before.

[palmtreepalmtree]

I watched the first episode of Designated Survivor last night so I could watch the Capitol Building explode with all three branches of our government inside. Wasn't as satisfying as I hoped.

[dennisboobs]

my favourite thing about the always sunny podcast is listening to rcg all say something extremely neurodivergent and then agree amongst themselves and convince themselves its completely normal

[lala-blahblah]

I will never make this because it would be for an audience of one (me) but ever since reading "If we Were Villains" (story about serious drama kids in college who perform shakespeare and deal with a murder) I have been entertaining the thought of a crack fic crossover with High School Musical The Musical The Series where the staff decides they will no longer put on shakespeare after the tragic accident that happened at Thanksgiving, because Shakespeare plays would only increase the tension and drama. So they hire Ms. Jen who decides their spring play will actually be High School Musical (which exists in the 90s in this universe) and it ruins the vibe so much that everyone gives up on being dark and mysterious because they're universally pissed at Ms Jen for making them learn choreoraphed basketball dancing.

[hightro]