#i respect the hustle about never thinking about your timelines i guess

[windamp]

love kakashi's timeline in naruto, kishimoto made sure that motherfucker made no sense

[chemicalbrew]

choose violence ask game 6 bc we both know where this is headed (cough all of them cough)

YEAH YEAH YEAH YIPPEE [immediately turns reblogs off]

6. which ship fans are the most annoying? [interpreting as romantic ship]

so. let's start with what we both know

Katana ZERO

As I said in DMs earlier, I think the only worthwhile KZ ship is Zero x the receptionist (preferably one-sided, but I think someone really smart could make it mutual. I certainly wouldn't be mad if it was confirmed mutual in canon, but I seriously doubt it - one-sided is way funnier, anyway.). I also kind of sort of in theory respect the hustle of people trying to write V and Snow (rarepairs... been there), but I think I could never see it that way; what we have in game of them is barely good enough for anything, which is what makes it hilarious. That said, the most annoying shit here is, as we know...

150 150 150 150 150 !!!!!!

Even their stupid ship name cracks me up. Like, I understand, you can't have a good portmanteau or anything when your ship has numbers, but half the ship is literally Zero (hehe another reason Zerocep[tionist] wins), however... the way you read it is not even conducive to a shipping read. One fifty? One hundred and fifty? Even the number doesn't want them together <3

There was a post somewhere in my KZ tag that actually puts my feelings better than I myself can, but I'll try anyway. Due to the way this game's plot\timeline is framed, all their past interaction is basically implied. They don't really get to exchange any words, no matter how awkward (compare this to the receptionist having the tiniest of character arcs, but still an arc, between the hotel and bunker stages) - Fifteen just shows up, confirms he's the real Dragon, kills the shit out of V, and leaves, and that right there is the closest we get to an interaction (surely you won't say Zero walking in on a conversation later counts?).

How the fuck can you wrangle a ship out of that?

'But muh implications' that's all they are, implications. Not a very fertile ground to build upon. And even then, what they imply is far more like camaraderie than anything, which, while a solid and even necessary (in real life, at least) foundation for a relationship, doesn't MEAN it has to be romantic!! Give me traumatized war buddies that aren't making out with each other, pleeeeeeease...

'But you're reblogging art with them together' YEAH BECAUSE THEY LOOK HANDSOME TOGETHER AND THEIR DESIGNS ARE PERFECTLY COMPLEMENTARY. THAT'S THE ONLY REASON. I'M LITERALLY OBSESSED WITH HOW WELL THEY MATCH IN THIS ASPECT. This is why they should just be fighting together and nothing else <3

Xenoblade (gonna try and be a bit more rapid-fire about the rest of this post, unless the wrathful mood strikes me again)

Shulk and Fiora do not make sense romantically at all to me. They're family, ffs. Same for Shulk and Reyn, if not doubly same. But the fans keep insisting otherwise and often. (Libra, if you're reading this, this doesn't apply to you or other friends of mine that like Shiora. You're the only ones I trust with these two, I just want no part of it myself)

Shulk and Alvis are amazing, but need to be viewed through a lens more complex than typical shipping to be fully appreciated (something I'm still somewhat guilty of and recovering from. Jesus, wider XB1 fandom can be the worst sometimes).

Shulk and Melia as a ship by itself does not offend me, but the fans that weep about how Melia never had any good shit happen to her, and say Shulk not returning her feelings makes it worse... can die in a fire :)

I don't understand how people can take Reyn and Sharla seriously together tbh... but I guess it's more acceptable than the stuff above?

Rex and Nia (on their own, without Aegis in picture) never needed to be anything more than friends. The way Nia gets over being ''''friendzoned''' (hate that word) canonically is better than anything fans have come up with regarding this matter.

Lora and Jin have barely been interpreted by anyone in the wider fandom correctly (that I know of - key word 'barely'). Just stop at this point <3

...I won't be talking about XB3 ships because I heavily dislike XB3 and haven't read anything shippy for it, not even for NoahMio.

PS. Morag and Zeke should get more attention (personally I'm still guilty of somewhat ignoring this as a ship, but if I ever replay\rewatch, I'll be sure to analyze their interactions more, especially bc they're fun no matter how you look)

misc.

I have seen people interpret Ares and Dela (Brandish series) as a romantic ship, and I'd like to see just how much their brain has rotted.

Olivier and Mueller (Trails in the Sky) are very fun as a ship! I'd just like to see people view their relationship through a more neutral lens sometimes. However, the fact that Estelle x Kevin fics exist is the real mind-bender here. HOW? It's called being playful and keeping up a front!! (Also, Estelle x Anelace is slept on the same way as Zerocep and Moragzeke <333)

Frog x Magus and Lucca x Magus (Chrono Trigger) make equally little sense, and yet seem to be popular. Ew. Not even mentioning my personal beef with Frog x Lucca. Don't.

Midna x Link and Malon x Link (Zelda series) were actually my first NOTPs, largely because of annoying fans. I see now I was in the wrong and am largely 'thog dont caaare' about it, but still, important.

Ace Attorney series... tbh its fandom is weird about ships as a whole, but I'm guilty of falling into the Blackmadhi trap, so I can't speak. Almost everything other than Blackmadhi, though, is a tough sell largely bc of fandom.

Any ship involving Stocke from Radiant Historia has to be included in here. I am by and large respectful of most popular stuff with him (especially Stocke x Rosch and the Stocke x Sonja x Rosch OT3), I just think it's more fun to have him not into any of it. Very similar situation to Zero KZ, honestly.

[kateyes224]

Independence Day

A/N: Fourth of July fluff and nonsense, inspired by some anons I’ve gotten recently about whether Mulder is capable of giving Scully a meaningful gift.  Timeline:  Post-IWTB, Pre-Revival

Mulder knocks on her door and goes to straighten his tie before he remembers he’s not wearing one.  Hasn’t worn one in years.  He tries not to fidget, suspecting she may be eyeing him through her peephole, but he ends up shifting back and forth on his feet the longer it takes her to answer the door.  

He triple-guesses his outfit for the eighteenth time that night, and berates himself for it, feeling ridiculous for feeling ridiculous.

He hears her soft, even footfalls as she approaches the door, then a long moment of silence. She is peeping.

When she opens the door, her apartment seems to exhale at the exact same moment he does.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Scully.”  Scully in her angular new suits and jewel-toned scrubs seems a completely separate being from this creature.  This woman’s hair is pulled up and away from her face and off her neck.  She’s wearing a sky-colored sweater that deepens the blue of her eyes to a dark violet in the low light, and jeans that he knows for a fact have been worn in from years of washing in hard water. He’d washed them a few dozen times himself. She’s hardly wearing a stitch of makeup.

Fuck losing nine minutes.  For a moment, he thinks he might have lost a quarter of a century.  “You look good.”

She knows. Blushes anyway.

“Thanks.  You look pretty good yourself.”

“Ladies always love a man in a polo.”

He keeps his eyes trained on hers, deliberately not looking over her shoulder.  I need a space of my own, Mulder, she’d said, a little over a year ago now.  He’d hated her for it then but he’d respected it just the same.  He still hates it, and he still respects it.  He doesn’t want to taint it by seeing it without her say-so.

“Would you like to come in for a minute?” A polite and completely insincere invitation.  She hadn’t even wanted him to pick her up tonight, he reminds himself.

“Nope, I think we can just go.  Otherwise we’ll be late.”

She looks cautious, but grabs her purse and her jacket from the table by the front door.  “Late?  I thought we were just going to grab dinner?”  

Mulder waits while she turns to close the door.  Her old housekey for their country home jangles on her keyring next to the one she uses to lock up.  

He doesn’t have a key for her new place.  

“We are going to grab dinner.  But I have a surprise later tonight and we’ve got to get a move on or else we’ll miss it.”

She makes a show of slowing and sighs audibly, predictably skeptical and apparently willing to play her old part for old time’s sake.

He walks her out to the pickup truck and circles to her side, opening it for her and handing her in.  She chuckles. “Mulder, you’ve never been this solicitous. What have you got planned? Not another haunted house, I hope.”

Closing her door, he smiles down at her through the half-closed window.  “You know I only save those for Christmas, Scully.”

He drives them back out of town the same way he came, threading his way from interstate to highway to two-lane country road before stopping to pick up dinner. She smiles when he pulls in front of her favorite barbecue joint and hops out of the truck to pay for a couple of messy brisket sandwiches dripping in tangy sauce and wrapped in foil and white styrofoam containers of coleslaw and baked beans.  Two thick slices of cornbread are immediately set upon by Scully when he returns to the truck, and he laughs and slaps her hands away.

The sound of her giggle bouncing around the cab of the truck before it’s snatched out the window and into the night air nearly wipes the smirk right off of his face. He’d been almost sure he’d never be able to make her laugh again.

Another twenty miles past the house he’s still trying to think of as his and not theirs and he pulls off the main road and into a dirt lot that is already filled with cars.  They’re a few hundred yards from where the local high school campus sprawls out in the dark.  Mulder grabs a blanket from the bed of the truck and ties the handles of the plastic bag of food into bunny ears. At her questioning look, he nods in the direction of the football field glowing under floodlights in the distance. Smells and sounds from booths selling all manner of deep-fried food, kettle corn, and funnel cake waft towards them in the heavy July air.

A dunk tank, a pony ride, and a small petting zoo are set up in the home team’s end zone.  An emu is being walked around on a leash, to the delight and horror of many small children.  And just beyond that, a wooden stage and dance floor. A band of morose young teens is going about the serious business of setting up their equipment, plugging guitars into amplifiers and strumming chords that twang offkey.

The lead singer and DJ, a girl with a shock of a bright turquoise pixie cut, stands in front of the speakers and clicks around on her laptop in the meantime. The dance floor is almost full with couples swaying back and forth to an unpredictable mix of R&B and country.  Children of all ages dart in between them in an endless game of tag.

“Mulder, what are we doing here?”

Mulder keeps walking just beyond the stage where other families have set up their own circles of chairs and picnic blankets.  He makes a show of unfurling the Navajo blanket on the ground, smooths the wrinkles before setting the plastic bag of food in the center.  “Just make yourself comfortable. You want anything to drink? Some funnel cake? We have about twenty minutes before the show.”

Scully crosses her arms and stares up at him. “Mulder,” she repeats, “what are we doing here?” She sounds, for all intents and purposes, like she’s just surveyed a crime scene and found it conspicuously lacking in what he’d once half-ironically referred to as a distinct paranormal bouquet.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Mulder asks, blinking down at her, and he nearly chokes on the question like a popcorn kernel has lodged itself in the back of his throat when he remembers that no, she probably doesn’t.  Not anymore.  Mulder shakes his head when it takes her a second too long to answer. “Don’t worry, Doc. Have a seat, I’ll go grab us a drink.”

Scully purses her lips at him and glances over her shoulder as the band strikes up a rousing, if overly-metal, rendition of Yankee Doodle.  “Hurry back,” she murmurs, then bends to sit cross-legged on the blanket and starts untying the plastic bag.

Mulder hustles off, taking a wide berth around a game of cornhole to where a keg and a cash booth have been set up.  He pays $10 for two light beers in red Solo cups and turns, almost knocking over a man and his wife in their late 30s.  

“Mr. Scully?” the young man asks, hesitant.

 Mulder sputters, trying to hide it by taking a sip of his beer.

“Uhhhh, no, I’m Fox Mulder. Dr. Scully is my…” Shit.  This was always the hard part.  “...my partner.”  It’s never not been true.  “Are you Mr. and Mrs. Fearon?”

The young man nods and glances at his wife, who smiles up uncertainly at Mulder.  They both turn. Behind them sits a boy in a wheelchair. “And this is Christian.”

Christian is pale, with huge, almond-shaped blue eyes and a tangle of messy brown hair.  He’s got a crocheted afghan tucked around his legs and a beanie on his head despite the humid July heat, but two rosy spots color his cheeks, belying a fragile bloom of health.

Mulder smiles down at him, bends to look into the boy’s eyes.  “Hi, Christian.  My name is Mulder. I’m a friend of Dr. Scully’s. She’s been wondering about you.”

Christian’s eyes crinkle, a grin lighting up his face. “I’ve been wondering about her, too.”

Mulder leads the way back over to where Scully is sitting on their blanket, the Fearons following slowly but surely behind him. Just as he calls out to Scully and she turns, the lights around the makeshift fairground all dim simultaneously, leading to whoops and hollers and lascivious catcalls.  In the dark, Mulder settles in on the blanket next to Scully and hands her a beer.

“Mulder, who was with-”

“Shhhh, Scully,” Mulder whispers, just as the band gets going with Ray Charles’ version of America the Beautiful. The drummer starts military cadence on the drums and the teen girl with the turquoise hair starts belting out the first verse in a honeyed alto.

Oh beautiful, for heroes proved, In liberating strife, Who more than self, our country loved, And mercy more than life

Just as the chorus gets going, the first pops and whistles of fireworks start echoing from a couple of hundred yards down the way.  The crowd draws in a collective gasp as blue and green and red and white sparks erupt overhead.

Scully’s eyes are trained on the sky for a long moment before she turns back to Mulder.  The wide smile on her face lights over him just as the next round of fireworks explode in a shimmer and a pop of noise. But her eyes slip past him and catch sight of the profile of the young boy who was trailing in Mulder’s wake. Christian’s hands are planted firmly over his ears, transfixed by the showers of color blazing overhead.

“Christian?” Mulder sees her mouth silently before looking up at him, confused.

Mulder bends close to her ear, loud enough that she can hear over the gunshot blast of the next round of fireworks.

“Last week, you got a voicemail at the house from his new treating physician, a Dr. Rajkumar. She thought you’d want to know...he’s been doing well enough as result of your treatment plan that his parents were going to take him to see the fireworks this year.”

Scully can’t seem to tear her gaze away from the boy’s face. His eyes, saucer-wide, haven’t left the sky, and his smile can’t get any bigger.  

Mulder watches Scully watching Christian for the next ten minutes, as the fireworks and the band get louder and more intense.  When the final crescendo and the finale culminate above them, she looks up at Mulder, whispers her thanks, and wraps an arm around his waist.

As she settles into a spot that feels more comfortable than it should for going without the weight and shape of her for so long, he hopes she feels free, if only for tonight.

[redconfidential-blog]

Since last week, all news channels have been on about the release of the Omarosa Manigault Newman memoir; Unhinged, and you know I had to get my hands on it. The former Assistant to the President and Director of Communications for the Office of Public Liaison has released another tell-all and Insider account of the Trump White House.

Omarosa first met Donald Trump when she was a contestant on his show; The Apprentice, and has worked with him on many projects and most recently her job with his administration in the White House. A lot has been said about this book in the media so this review will be in three parts.

THE INTERESTING BITS

Omarosa is Nigerian-American Yes, she is our sister! Which, in my opinion, explains the drive and aggressive ambition this woman projects. It is definitely Nigerian. Argue with your WAEC certificate please. That “We die here” hustle spirit in her is genetic. In Chapter 2 she reveals that her dad, who was murdered was Nigerian and had named her Omarosa short for “Omarosaonee”, which means “my beautiful child desired.”.  I’d like to find out what tribe in Nigeria bears this name. Certainly not Igbo or Yoruba? I’m guessing Bini (Benin, Edo State)? Any ideas?

Omarosa worshiped Donald Trump To win on the apprentice she read his books, copied is mannerisms, played into his idiosyncrasies and lived for his praise and approval. Consequently, there were a lot of things she noticed and knew were wrong, and here, she admits she made excuses, and let them slide, conveniently classifying these occurrences as “Not My Business”. 

Looking the other way doesn’t make her any less culpable. However, coming from a desperately poor background, I can appreciate that it was easier, smarter and infinitely more profitable to have kept her focus on her career by minding her own business.

She Believed Trump Was Racial Not Racist Omarosa suggest that over the time she has known Donald Trump, he has changed. She says that he was racial; using race, much like gender to create conflict or controversy as he did on seasons of the Apprentice.

“As I thought at the time, he is racial, though, in that he uses race and racial relations to manipulate people. I believed the birther movement stuff was opposition research, as he claimed, but it also had the purpose of riling up the Republican base of white voters. Trump’s racialization of illegal immigrants and his rhetoric about “building a wall” served the same goal. I believed then that Donald Trump was intentionally pitting races against each other for political gain, just as he’d pitted races against each other on The Apprentice for ratings.”

Whichever, racial or racist, Donald Trump is a malicious catalyst, and so making a distinction between either words doesn’t change the poor moral basis it rests on.

THE SHOCKING ALLEGATIONS

The N-Word Tape Trump using the N-word is not hard for anyone to imagine if you have followed his presidency. I mean, he did refer to an African American athlete as a “son of a bitch” for kneeling during the National Anthem.  Omarosa says “Speculation about the N-word tape…I was highly doubtful that it existed… But in the year since, my mind was turning about the man I’d called a friend for almost fifteen years. I’d been loyal to him all this time, but if I had any proof that this tape was real, I would pack up my office and submit my resignation immediately”.

Reading this, I remember thinking “Sorry, I don’t believe you” and then she goes on to list all she had put up with to stay in Trump’s cult.

I’d had one foot out the door since the mishandling of the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, in August 2017. And, in October, there was Trump’s insensitive condolence call with the widow of an Army Special Forces soldier killed in Niger, followed by Trump and Kelly’s racially charged attack on Representative Frederica Wilson who heard the call and told the press about it. Trump’s endorsement of Alabama Senate candidate Roy Moore, a man who’d been accused of sexual misconduct by multiple women, only added insult to injury. The N-word tape would be the last “last straw” for me.

So why would the N-word tape be the “last last straw”? In my opinion, the N-word tape might not make much of a difference to the Trump administration. It would only confirm what the rest of the world already knew. The tape would be just another straw Omarosa would have put up with to maintain her privilege and proximity to power. Summarily, I’m not going to assume that this tape would have made Omarosa resign, not even if Donald Trump called her the N-word to her face.

General Kelly Blackmailing Omarosa

In the rush to get out of the White House after my meeting with Kelly, I left behind some very personal items: financial documents, a drive containing my wedding proofs, photos, gifts, cards, and most important, my commission certificate. According to an email from the White House counsel’s office, if I wanted to see my personal items again, I would have to sign a draconian departure nondisclosure agreement (NDA) about my time at the White House….At the time of this writing, General John Kelly is still holding my personal items hostage at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and advising the counsel’s office to harass me constantly.

Is this even legal? Trump’s presidency sounds a lot like the mafia.

THE NOT-SO-SHOCKING ALLEGATIONS

Donald Trump’s Mental Health Much like Michael Wolff already said in his memoir Fire and Fury, Omarosa also states that President Donald Trump’s mental and physical health has degenerated over time. She suggests that earlier in their relationship, he was smart and energetic but now, he isn’t the brightest bulb in the room. Trump reads “at an eighth- or ninth-grade level”, and “never read from beginning to end any of the major pieces of legislation, policies or even some of these executive orders that he has signed”, repeats himself unnecessarily and has trouble keeping up with conversations.

Melania Protests Her Husband Through Her Outfits Omarosa tells us that Melania is an amazing mother to her son and confirms that the first lady and her husband do not sleep in the same room. However, Omarosa supports the popular theory that Melania wore some clothes deliberately to embarrass her husband, some of which included the “pussy bow” blouse after the Access Hollywood tape was released, the “I REALLY DON’T CARE, DO U?”  Zara jacket she wore to Texas to meet immigrant children, and a white pantsuit to the State of the Union. You be the judge.

Related: Book Review on Fire and Fury 

Donald Trump’s Disturbing Relationship with His Children Another thing Micheal Wolff already told us; Trump’s relationship with his children is quite unusual. Omarosa details Donald insulting his son and another time suggests that his son get “some nice ass” in the playboy mansion with his pregnant daughter in-law present. She also implies that his interaction with his daughter Ivanka is a little more than just a father-daughter relationship.

 During one long break, Gene and Donald engaged in language so profane, it would have raised eyebrows in prison. Donald asked Gene, “What do you think of Ivanka? How’s she doing?” What followed was a vile exchange, right in front of Ivanka, with Gene Simmons talking about her in a room full of people. While leering openly at her breasts, he said, “She’s a very, very sexy, desirable young woman who I’m looking forward to getting to know much better if you know what I mean, with all due respect.” Her father egged him on. Ivanka groaned dismissively and tried to get them to change subjects. I have to assume she’d been dealing with this her whole life and was used to it. Everyone else in the room was shocked, not by Gene’s language (we knew he was a disgusting pig), but by Donald’s obvious delight in hearing it. 

Very creepy.

Trump Had An Affair with a Pastor Omarosa suggests she wasn’t able to run the Office of the Public Liaison because of Trump’s spiritual advisor, Paula White.  Then Omarosa was later told that White and Trump enjoyed a “special relationship.” Omarosa writes “I was not sure what to make of this,… But I could not stop myself from contemplating whether her position as spiritual advisor had ever been missionary.”

****

Summarily, Trump’s administration has brought about a record number of book releases telling similar tales of lies and corruption in the White House. For Omarosa, this book is as much a tale of her life, childhood and personal tragedies as it is about her career, political experience and relationship with Donald Trump.

Do I believe her? Mostly. Some of her accusations are vague and I feel like her “awakening” is only triggered by the fact that she felt railroaded out of the White House and deserved better for her loyalty over the years, not because she genuinely realized how unhinged Trump is. However, others are specific and she has released tapes to back her story up. Yes, our sister is out here dropping tapes like singles from an upcoming album!

Is it a good read? Certainly. It is fast-paced and gripping, the prologue beginning with John Kelly inviting her to the Situation Room. Definitely a page-turner.

Should you go and buy it? Not really. It’s not a classic, it doesn’t say too much you don’t already know and in my humble opinion, this is not just to tell Omarosa’s story. It is a branding strategy to keep her name in the media with TV appearances and media coverage and ensure she is still marketable without Trump, while using him like all the other writers and books before hers.

Have you read Unhinged by Omarosa Manigault Newman? Let me know what you think in the comments! As always, thank you for reading! *** Liked this post? Do share it on your social media wall, timeline or feed. Want blog updates and promotions in your inbox? Sign Up Now

Book Review: Unhinged by Omarosa Manigault Newman Since last week, all news channels have been on about the release of the Omarosa Manigault Newman memoir; Unhinged,