#shit is dis cos tang

[pondslime]

subterranean

FANDOM : house of wax (2005) PAIRING : bo sinclair x afab!fem!reader RATING : explicit 🔞 WORDCOUNT : 3.9k

Reader POV. Basement fuckery. He tells you it's to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. You end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

Crossposted on A03 here.

⚠️ Stockholm Syndrome. VERY dubious consent under duress. This was supposed to just be porn without plot. But then I lost my goddamn mind. Oops. Decent amount of weird prose. Depersonalization and derealization. Pet play (but make it weird and kinda metaphorical). Collaring. Forced boot riding. Vibrator and anal plug use. Bondage/gagging/edging. Bo at his absolute WORST (his natural state), being smug and mean and awful. Dirty talk dialed ALL the way up. Extremely dehumanizing and degrading language. Mind break elements. LOTS of backhanded praise. ⚠️

You always got too comfortable.

A lifetime before—when you were first here—you sat on this mattress with him, swallowing down mouthfuls of cold beef and carrots. You can remember the soup swirling in the can, murky and brown like a puddle of stagnant rainwater. He hadn't bothered to warm it up for you, but it hadn’t mattered. The food was something. Sometimes it felt like everything.

You licked the broth off the spoon as he plugged another tape into the VCR.

“One of my favorites.” He told you. Of course it was. Every movie he showed you down here was one of his favorites. Every can of soup might be the last. It was always the same things, over and over.

That’s when you started to lose track of time, you think—when you’d started to cling onto all that nothing.

Time wasn’t all that bad of a thing to lose, was it? Who needed it when his thumb was rubbing against your knee, stroking up your skin? The soup was cold, and his hand was warm. You traded one for the other and you liked it.

Funny. Thoughts like that always felt like they came with an or else tacked at the end.

A chunk of potato sat unpleasantly on your tongue—almost bitter, gravel in your mouth. Just like everything else, you swallowed it down.

He pressed play, his fingers drifting up your thigh. The TV quality was fuzzy, interrupted by the occasional flicker of static. Sometimes the films he chose would start in the middle of scenes. You’d get brief glimpses of things he’d recorded over—the triumphant blare of a talk show theme cutting off mid-note, dropping you in media res. He always assured you that you weren’t missing anything. At least that was one thing he didn’t bother lying about.

The movie wasn’t why you remembered that day, though. It was because of something he’d asked you.

“Where’d ya’ grow up?”

You hadn’t known what to say. He never asked you things like that. Your confusion only deepened when you turned towards him. There was no tension in his jaw, no furrowing of his brow. He looked, for the first time, wholly and startlingly calm.

When you failed to answer, he leaned forward and switched the TV off. He never did that either.

“Tell me ‘bout it. Whatchu do out there, anyway?”

You always regret not lying to him.

The world had shrunk down so much in the time you’d been in the town that it almost felt like you could gather it up and stuff it in your pocket.

You think about home. It looks different now.

Spidery tendrils of dust cling to the gaps between the balusters. It’s so difficult to get light in the house. No matter how many windows you open, there are always corners lost to shadow.

It’s strange how you could be up there one day, replacing the bulb under a fringed lampshade—and the next, you’d be tumbled back underground.

Just last week, you were lying on the couch in the living room.

The dog had padded into the room. She’d been gone for the better part of the day. With the doors unlocked, she went wherever she pleased. It had worried you at first, but it didn't anymore. She'd never leave town. She knew better.

At least, that’s what he’d said.

“Come here, beautiful.”

Jumping up, she curled into the space beside you. You wrapped your arm around her, wrinkling your nose. She reeked terribly of dog, stale corn chips and dirt and musk. You wondered if she might let you give her a bath now that you were in her good graces. It took a while to get there, but she came around. In a manner of speaking, the same thing had happened with you.

Pretty funny, huh?

Earlier, you'd been thinking about the puppies in the pet store window. Did she know about them? Slumbering away behind glass and dust, forever only a couple breaths old. Click. A switch was flipped, and they were as alive as they would ever be, nestled on newspaper shavings. On days like this, did she ever make her way down the hill to see them?

“Girls don’t last in this town.” You murmured, scratching behind her ear. “Just me and you, yeah?”

With a huff, she buried her head in the crook of your neck. It seemed like she was done listening to you.

That was fair, really. Half the time you weren’t even saying what you were really thinking anymore—and when you did, you weren't entirely sure that you made much sense. So much of yourself was locked up in your head and you kept forgetting where you left the keys. It all got clogged up inside your skull and oozed out of your mouth in a trail of sickly platitudes. You were just so thankful, so grateful.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You were always sorry for something, and sometimes you even meant it.

The rays of light were receding off of the arm of the couch, crawling up the wall. Your thoughts filled the living room. You could almost see them floating through the air, bouncing off each other like bubbles. Fleeting, effervescent things, popping as soon as you tried to track their paths. When you turned your head, you could smell his cologne. It was his jacket, hanging discarded over the couch cushions.

For a sudden, terrifying moment, you missed him.

That’s when you said the prayer. You didn't know where you meant for it to go. You guessed it was for whoever was around to hear it. Most days it was him and some of the time it was his mother. Both choices rang false. If God was still in this town, it was here, caught in these beams of light. Or maybe God was the dog heavy on top of you, her breath a rhythmic rumble against your throat.

Maybe you wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking.

Today, Bo fastens the collar around your neck. The leather feels heavy against your skin.

He tells you it’s to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. All the light bulbs you screw in will eventually need to be replaced. Wiping away the dust only gives way to more dust. You'll end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

This almost feels more like his room than the one he sleeps in up at the house. Here, you can feel him more than anywhere else. There's more of you down here too. Real, tangible parts of yourself. Look around. There you are in the stain on the mattress, the blood crusted on the vinyl.

Welcome back, baby.

You keep your gaze on the ground, searching for something to bore your eyes into. Your eyes land on his shoes. Flecked with dirt, they bear obvious signs of wear. There’s a sizable hole in the toe of one of them. You focus in on that as he readjusts the collar, tightening the strap around your neck.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you hear him click the leash into place. Even without looking up at him, you can picture the expression on his face. It isn’t a good one. You still can’t decide if he looks more or less like himself when he screws his face up like that.

Tugging roughly at the leash, he forces you to look up at him. Wrists bound; your hands flex uselessly against your back.

“Please—”

Without warning, he sticks his fingers into your mouth, forcing them to the back of your throat. You choke, your hands flexing in panic behind your back. When he pulls them out, you cough, eyes watering.

“Now, normally I like hearin’ you, baby.” He says, smiling down at you. His face is a discordant thing. All American, boy next door. A slice of apple pie that someone put a cigarette out in. “But you know somethin’—”

He crouches down in front of you, still smiling. You watch him silently, shifting anxiously on your knees.

“I never did meet a dog who could talk.” Reaching over, he flicks at the metal ring on the collar. “Feels wrong.”

Dropping the leash, he gets to his feet, striding away. You crane your neck to the side as he rustles around behind you. After a moment, he lets out an affirmative grunt.

Quickly, you pivot your head back to the front. Making his way back to stand in front of you, your eyes flash to the item in his hands. Seemingly amused by your concern, he dangles it in front of you.

It’s a ball gag, shiny and black—noticeably a hair newer than the rest of the junk down here. Maybe he bought it just for you. It’d make a pretty lousy gift, but then again, he was always shit at stuff like that.

He had an incredible knack for getting you shit that you never asked for. Everything came with conditions, a laundry list of provisos and conditions that you didn't remember signing up for. Everything he gave you was actually for him.

“Open up, baby.”

Before you can think to do as he asks, his thumb forces your mouth open, pressing down on your teeth. You sputter as he forces the gag into your mouth, securing it around the back of your neck.

“That’s better, yeah?” He asks, grabbing hold of the leash again.

You stare up at him, exhaling tight bursts of air through your nose. You tilt your head a bit, working your jaw around the ball. Your teeth rest uncomfortably on the rubber.

“You been so good today, think we outta give that pussy some attention, huh?” He smirks. “Whatchu think?”

You whine, the noise coming out in an embarrassingly wet gurgle. Spit runs out of your mouth, dripping down your chin and trickling onto your neck.

“So cute.” His voice is syrupy sweet. He can play at authenticity, but never with you.

He kicks your thighs apart with his foot, nudging the tip of his boot between your legs. His eyebrows shoot up expectantly as he nods down at you.

“Go on, then.”

Disgust is an old friend. She disappears for months at a time, only to show up unexpectedly as if no time has passed. She’s back again, turning your stomach around in her hands. You tilt your hips down. Rubbing yourself against the tip of his shoe, you wonder if he’s doing this for old times' sake.

Rocking forward, you imagine a glossy magazine cover. You could see him on the cover of one. He does have the face for it, when he bothers to put it on.

Bored? 50 Ways to Keep the Spark Alive!

Your jaw is beginning to ache. Bo's hand strokes softly at the top of your head. You hate that the pressure against your clit almost feels good. Your mind unhelpfully supplies more article titles, bubbling up in your mind in obnoxiously curly lettering.

10 Mouth Exercises For The Modern Woman. Have You Tried Screaming? It’s All The Rage in This Town. Once You Start, You Won’t Want to STOP!

“That’s it.” He grins. “What a little slut.”

You look up at him pleadingly, another dribble of spit running down your chin.

“Always got told ya’ shouldn’t let dogs up on the bed.” He muses, the amusement plain in his voice. “But you been on your best behavior, huh?”

Last week, you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up somewhere else.

It was dark and you were pressed against something warm. Not the dog, not the light. Those were both gone. His jacket hanging off the side of the couch, maybe. But it was moving now, and so were you.

“Gotta getcha to bed.” He’d muttered, carrying you up the stairs.

You lay across Bo's lap, the side of your cheek against the dirty mattress. You shudder, your legs shaking.

“Pretty girl.” Reaching over, he tugs you up by the leash, forcing your head back.

Every breath you take seems to make your muscles clench around the plug in your ass. He works it in and out of you slowly and you gulp, shallow breaths whistling out of your nostrils. Every time you jolt forward you can feel him press against you, hard against your belly.

“Hey. What’s wrong, baby? That hurt?”

You nod frantically.

“Huh. Funny…'cuz I don't think it does. You wanna know how I know?” You feel him spread you open, fingers dipping into your pussy. “You’re wet for it, baby.”

He pushes the plug deeper, and your head spins at the sensation. A warbling moan pitches out of your mouth as you feel it sink fully into you. You shiver uncontrollably, whimpering around the gag. Saliva gathers on your tongue, and you feel it spill out of the side of your mouth, pooling under your cheek.

“Good.” He rumbles out, stroking his knuckles along your back. “That’s my good girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel him nudge something between your legs. With a click, the vibrator buzzes to life. You let out a startled cry as he strokes it along your pussy.

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’tchu act like I never gave you anything.”

The vibrator teases against your clit in short bursts, pressing down just long enough to leave you panting before he pulls it away. Almost enough, not quite. You arch back uselessly, chasing after that glittery warm sensation. He laughs a bit, holding the vibrator just above your clit.

You can feel the edge of pleasure, but it’s nothing more than a distant dull thrum. He keeps you hovering over it for what feels like forever, squirming over a feeling that’s hardly there. You bite down on the gag, your sob watery and muffled around the rubber.

“This body’s all mine, girl.” He murmurs, running his thumb down your spine. “I ain’t gotta make it feel good.”

With a hum, he rests the vibrator fully onto your clit. The sensation you’ve been chasing envelopes you, shimmering through your core. Nasally, high-pitched whines escape you in quick, desperate succession.

“But I do, don’t I? ‘Cuz I’m just so sweet.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him in bleary gratitude. He presses down on the plug. The discomfort has crested over and all you feel now is loose and pliant. You moan around the gag, your eyes fluttering.

“You like having somethin’ in your ass while I play with this pussy?”

And you nod, humming out your agreement.

“Mmm-hmm? Yeah?” He teases, mimicking your garbled reply. "That's good, baby. That's real good. Reckoned I’d fuck your ass today, but that pussy’s gettin’ nice and wet for me. Whatchu think? Which hole you want fucked?”

You mumble incoherently through the gag.

“All of ‘em?” He exclaims, the grin evident in his voice. “Well, ain’t that real sweet. Good answer, baby.”

He keeps talking, but it’s getting harder to focus on what he’s saying.

“Next crew that comes through here—maybe I’ll tell ‘em I got a slut who needs breakin’ in. You spread those legs so nice, sure you’d fuckin’ love it.”

The image flashes through your mind. Hands everywhere, laughter and heat and friction from a kaleidoscope of people destined for death. You’re in the middle of all of those faceless people—a tribute to be used up, one last meal for a parade of living corpses.

You’re all destined for the same end, but theirs is closer than they know. Yours is prolonged, tied around touches and salt.

Bo would be in the corner, lighting another cigarette—watching, because he’s always watching. Mouth twitching into a smile because he’s right again. You’re exactly what he thinks you are. You’ll keep your eyes on him because you can’t look at anyone else. After all, if it isn’t his hands, could you even feel it? Would it even count?

The panic is sudden and hot, twisting inside your chest. A desperate little whine builds at the back of your throat.

If I’m everybody else's, I can’t be yours.

“I’d have a hard time sharin’, though.”

Relief. The vibrator pulses against your clit and your eyes go unfocused.

“’S funny. Gotchu down here—and nobody knows.”

Between your legs, your pussy feels pathetically wet, sloppily sliding along the vibrator. You almost wish he’d keep you like this forever, jolts of pleasure lapping hungrily between your legs.

“If there’s even anybody out there lookin’ for ya’…” He muses. “Wish they could see ya’ now, huh? Don’t think they’d feel bad for you, baby.”

Pleasure rolls dizzily through you, electric licks of sensation as he rubs the vibrator against your clit. The rubber in your mouth is an anchor, it feels good on your teeth.

“Betchu thought you were really somethin’ out there.” He chuckles. “How’s it feel to find out you ain’t? Feels good, don’t it?”

You open your eyes and nod up at him, panting out your agreement. Through the haze, you see him smirk. It’s a cruel, cold thing. You’re all full and useless, but he doesn’t need you to say it, because he knows. Thoughtlessly, you shift in his lap, trying desperately to spread your legs wider for him.

“Nothin’ but a little fucktoy.” He coos. “That’s all you are, baby. Want you to remember that.”

He doesn’t need to worry. You remember everything, except what counts.

“Good girls cum, baby. They can’t help it.”

You’re hurtling higher and higher, the pleasure battering against your brain. That’s where the memories are, where the time used to be. It feels better to fill it with this. But then again, you’ve known that from the start.

“Go on, baby. Cum all pretty for me, yeah?”

And you do, a million times over.

He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as you tense up, your hands clenching into tight fists behind your back. Your orgasm is a bone-deep shiver, wracking your legs with uncontrollable chills. The pleasure throttles through the last of your coherency, prizing a desperate noise from your throat. Maybe it’s a word. It might be his name. It might just be the time. Maybe this is how you find it again.

The buzz of the vibrator goes dim and far away as he holds it against you. You’re twitching somewhere above it. Each involuntary movement you make brings with it a new hiccup of sensation. Around you, the room seems to spin—whirling into a terrific blur of green and yellow.

It can be beautiful down here, if you squint.

When he lifts the vibrator off your clit, you pitch forward, warbling out a dizzy laugh behind the gag. You wait for the sound of the wand powering off. It doesn't come. Behind you, the buzzing is a low, incessant drone. You’ve barely managed to ground yourself when you hear it kick up a notch.

Click.

The sheets smell like all the thousand versions of you, each one answering questions she shouldn’t. Four walls surround you and they feel like they’re collapsing down on all sides. They could be made of plaster or stone, but they might just be something else. Your limbs, your heart, your mind, him. Separate appendages, but all linked. All part of the same crumbling structure.

A scream builds at the back of your throat as you feel him set it back on your clit.

“We ain’t done, baby.”

Your sleep is deep. Quiet. Only one dream.

Bo’s sitting on the edge of the bed, an inky blot in the gray morning light. He makes a move to stand up and you grab onto his arm.

“Go back to bed, angel.” He murmurs.

It almost sounds real enough.

When you wake up, you're alone. You try the door and find it unlocked.

Figures.

Upstairs, the shop is empty. There’s a can of unopened Coke on the counter. You crack it open and take a sip. Lukewarm bubbles of carbonation fizz over your tongue. God, he really was shit with gifts.

Walking up the hill, you catch your reflection in the window of a sedan. You look haggard, your hair a raggedy clump around your shoulders. You try the handle and it cracks open easily. Crawling into the dirty belly of the car, you wince as you lower yourself down into the seat. You sit with one leg dangling out, absentmindedly studying the dusty speedometer.

There are cars in other towns, parked on different streets. There are places without dust. There are always other futures. Sometimes you turn down the wrong road, and sometimes you die. Sometimes you don’t.

That’s just the way these things go.

You imagine the town collapsing in on itself like a pop-up book. There’s Bo, frowning down at it. He seemed like he’d been the type of kid that wasn’t allowed to check those kinds of things out from the library. He’d bring them back with pages ripped out, scrawled with pen marks. Pilled white card stock where faces used to be.

God, you’re miserably sore. It’s impossible to narrow down the ache to a certain part of you.

Lifting your leg into the car, you pull the door shut. The dust inside tickles your nose. Unthinkingly, you reach up, your fingers brushing against the metal buckle of the seatbelt. The sting is sharp and immediate. You pull your hand away with a hiss, your hand smarting. When you reach for the seatbelt again, you’re careful to avoid the clip.

You buckle yourself in. Click. Alive again, now more than ever. Wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, you close your eyes. The leather is hot against your palms, and it hurts a bit. Just a little. That’s just the pain again, but you don’t really mind. It’s something you can keep. It’s all yours.

Nothin’ you can’t handle, girl.

That’s what he said last night. Afterwards.

You were laying with your head in his lap, the itchy crust of dried spit against your cheek. It was then that you decided that you were so ugly that you had to be beautiful. You had to be worth looking at. You’d rolled over on your back, looking up at him through swollen eyes. That’s when he said it, so low and quiet that you almost didn’t register it. There’d been a an edge of pride to his voice.

Nothin’ at all.

A lick of pleasure thrums between your legs and your eyes flash open. You unbuckle the seatbelt and scramble out of the car, ignoring the pain that sings through your limbs.

Things like that? They always came with an or else tacked at the end. You remember that, don’t you? You couldn’t have forgotten.

Looming above you, the house is a dark blot of ink against the blue sky.

There were no collars for dogs in this town—they didn’t need them. They’d always find their way back home, pawing at the door for some scraps. The only leash is the one that exists in your mind. You can almost see it, trailing off your neck and up the hill, looped messily around the front doorknob.

You were going to die here with all that wetness between your legs, begging him to take out more of you with his teeth.

It's like he said.

You don’t need to tie up a dog if it loves you.

[eggplant-crusader]

My three "Sol saves Kom but Anemone is badly hurt to the point that half of her body is covered in her scales" AUs I'll probaly never write because life is a cage:

Sol has to live with the burden of knowing they did that to Anemone, it's fucking awful, Anemone doesn't blame them but Sol can't come clean about how they knew what they were doing, so they drift apart. When the Helios arrive a less supremacist Anemone doesn't get dragged in, and is in fact treated like shit. Sol and her bond over their rebellion to the new government. Eventually Sol brings Anemone on expeditions, where they show her enough to convince her that they have memories of past timelines, and they come clean. It's a fucking blow, but Anemone comes to terms with it, and helps overthrow Lum and sign a peace with the gardeners. Anemone grows to be an explorer/diplomat, helping Dys and Sol, and keeping an eye on the more dangerous colonists.

Sol dies saving Kom. Tangent looks after the half-dead dead Anemone, because it's her job, and the two sort of get used to each other's presence during Anemone's long hospital stay and rehab. When Anemone is finally discharged, Tang starts seeking her put because she enjoys their conversations and she finds that she thinks more clearly after them. Anemone meanwhile feels lost, and starts going out on expeditions. She replaces Sol as the one to meet and bond with Sym, and she learns to love the planet. She eventually manages to convince Tangent to join her. Tangent is forever changed by the experience, she realizes she doesn't want to harm the ecosystem and also oh fuck, she's in love with Anemone. She completely panics about her project, and destroys it all, which forces her to go on the run, helped by Dys of all people (Dys is friends-ish with Nem), not before telling EVERYONE what they were planning. Cal and Anemone especially freak out (Cal is Nem's bff in all these AUs, at least eventually), and start planning a coup. Anemone is fucking spiraling though, because Tang is OUT THERE and she's IN HERE were she can't help and oh fuck, she's SO FUCKING IN LOVE WITH THE MOST WANTED CRIMINAL IN THE COLONY. The coup fails, because they can't get Marz to agree (Cal is sort of the Sol replacement as leader in the city, and they don't see eye to eye) and without her they can't get the votes. Cal and Nem are thrown in jail because without Sol they're a bit too loud for Lum. As the final Glow attack is imminent though, Dys and Tang arrive to break them out with his guile and her science. They also bring the overseer's final deal with them, and the four of them crash the council with it. Lum is about to go ballistic when Marz (who got a place in the council post failed coup for siding with him) knocks him out from behind. They vote to try to negotiate. They succeed. Marz becomes governor, but her transitional government is replaced by Cal's and/or Tammy's, who are a better fit for dealing with the gardeners. Meanwhile, Tang becomes a field scientist, trying to better understand the planet so that humans can better coexist with it. Anemone joins her as her guard/forager/assistant/pillow. They basically live in tents. Dys joins them sometimes when he's not too busy with his alien boyfriend.

Marz catches Sol preparing for the glow attack, and realizes Sol isn't planning to come back. Sol plays dumb, but their last words to her are to look after Nem. After the attack, Marz visits Nem while she's healing a few times, but they can't get along and eventually she gives up. Then again, the Helios show up, Nem doesn't fit in, and bonds with Marz over their mutual distaste of Lum and co. They're not friends, but Marz recruits Nem to be her muscle, and Nem is happy to. This includes trying to figure out wtf Dys is doing because he's sus af, among other things, but is mostly about making the Helios look bad and looking intimidating next to Marz. Nem finds out about Dys and Sym, brings it to Marz, convinces her that they can use this to improve life in the colony AND take down Lum. Marz begins a slow negotiation with Sym, basically playing a game of telephone where she tells Nem who tells Dys who tells Sym who tells the Gardeners. It takes YEARS, but during that time, Nem watches Marz grow more and more invested in the people and become more and more determined to make the peace work for the sake of the planet and everyone, and that makes Nem's devotion switch flips on. She becomes the ultimate badass hyperloyal bodyguard, and Marz sort of takes her for granted until the day Marz overthrows Lum and is attacked, Nem jumps in front of her and she think Nem just took a bullet (or sci fi bullet equivalent idk) for her and oh fuck, if Nem is dead she's going to literally murder everyone. But Nem is fine, except now Marz won't let her do her job and keeps fuzzing over her and what is WRONG WITH YOU you're the governor now, you need me more than ever, DAMN RIGHT I NEED YOU, furious making out ensues. They completely wreck the governor's desk (or sci fi desk equivalent idk). You know the rest. Peace signed. Gay Dys. Marz becomes first galactic empress, Nem is her loyal bodyguard and also wife.

In all of these, Nem lives a long, happy, and relatively peaceful life where she is not consumed by hatred for the Other and does not spiral into a cycle of violence that ends with her dying young because I couldn't sign a fucking peace deal for some fucking reason what the fuck am I doing wrong I can't take this anymore aaaaaaaa

[zimvasion]

So GIR licks him next

Ew. EW. Zim shoves him away, proceeding to furiously scrub at his cheek. GIR was always consuming the most repulsive things; who even KNEW what had touched that tongue before he dared to touch Zim with it.

❝ Okay, GIR, its not as pleasant when you do it. ❞ 

A deep sigh…

❝ Why don’t you stick to..ugh..hugs? ❞

Even that was a painful solution as GIR was also always covered in something gross, but, well. He didn’t want to hurt the feelings that GIR technically shouldn’t even have. ( But don’t tell anyone else. )

[heymacy]

ian really said 💋surprise bitch💋

[morioh-killer]

Hater! Hrs! Babey! I can’t stand when couples feel a need to constantly engage in the most over the top pda, sometimes even being overtly sexual in front of other people? Monopolizing group chats or groping each other in public? Everyone remembers that you’re dating. You don’t need to remind everyone every other sentence. We get that you fuck. Nobody cares. No one is trying to swipe your significant other. Please shut up. There are so many people in happy and healthy relationships who don’t need to constantly be gross about it. It is indeed possible. That shit just makes people uncomfortable and people often feel way too awkward to call it out. Dis cos tang.

I knew someone who only talked about their boyfriend every time we talked. It was insufferable. Like yes you can mention your partner to me and i’ll be happy to hear about it - but if the only thing you talk about is “me and my boyfriend me and my boyfriend me and my boyfriend” it JUST GETS OLD when that’s the only thing you talk about.

In edition: if your friend gets a partner and they suddenly ditch all their friends. More specifically you. Like. um.. hello?

[haik-choo]

haikyuu as different texas boys

taylor bailey: kageyama, asahi, yaku, kai, koganegawa, goshiki, osamu, hoshiumi

plays jv football, probably a freshman. wears those jeans that are rally dark blue near the seems and are light blue in the middle with a very ash brown belt. their shirt either says is a salt life shirt or a A&M shirt. either cowboy boots or sperrys, no exceptions. drives a grey ford f-450, relatively well-maintained. occasional mud on tires and blood in bed of truck from the deer they killed last weekend. casual shit. doesn’t hang out with girls. prefers fishing to hunting if he’s being honest. their dad is probably jacked. there’s one in every class of yours, they’re either naive or bland. sorry, bud. 

zachary richards: atsumu, kuroo, matsukawa, hanamaki, terushima, reon, 

call him zac. no ‘h’. does NJROTC but only casually and gets annoyed at the try-hards in the marksmanship program. does a few advanced classes and no one knows why he’s in them because he doesn’t even try. is hot and gets a lot of girls but is only loyal to the girl that he’s been dating for a few years (flirts a little here and there though). dresses like the typical fuckboy but with a flare of jock even though he’s not a jock. has too many girl friends to count. you introduce yourself to him and he forgets your name one day later. (you think he’s hot but you’ll never say anything) 

trey harrison: lev, kindaichi, kunimi, futakuchi, shirabu, tendo, suna

“lmao i hate texas i’m gonna leave here as soon as i graduate” but skips every other class and has already been held back two years. smokes weed in the bathroom and knows the on campus police officers so well it’s almost sus. people either hate him or love him. people think he’s faking not knowing the answers in class but he really doesn’t know them and just needs help. kind of sweet but also kind of an ass. makes a gun sign with his hands but has never held a gun in his life. administrators come in and just look at him like :| and motion him to follow them and no one bats an eye because it happens so often. parents are actually texas-born and raised and he likes the rodeo but will never admit it. 

bo: bokuto, nishinoya, tanaka, ukai, yamamoto, kyotani, 

no last name needed. no other words other than HICK HICK HICK. owns a beat up red pick-up truck who’s engine they worked on. they do donuts in the parking lot and take up two parking spaces. has fresh kill in the bed of their truck. has a long mullet with their shirt sleeves rolled up. bell-bottom jeans with a huge john cena-esque belt. jeans are tucked in his huge ass cowboy boots. is a proud texan, born and raised. probably super short. they go hunting every weekend and occasionally go mudding or dirt-biking. their girlfriends are just like them. THICK accent. honestly they have bde. 

jake moreno: sugawara, akaashi, kenma, tsukishima, takeda, oikawa, semi

award-winning swim kid in student council, people think he’s gay but he’s not. looks like they belong in california. wear dusty pink bermuda shorts with a life is good shirt. have made friendship bracelets by hand. social butterfly. own three different hydroflasks, has painted each one. extremely artistic and friends with everyone. so many girl friends, so many. friends with other guys like him. activist. owns cowboy boots but they are exclusively for the rodeo. girls protect him with their life. is super pretty and a lot of girls crush on him. usually tan with light eyes. unbelievably good grades and aesthetic notes. 

garrett higgs: daichi, kita, yamaguchi, ennoshita, hinata, inuoka, iwaizumi, moniwa, aone, ushijima, aran

in FFA (future farmers of america), genuinely nice and wants to grow up to inherit their dad’s ranch. posts videos of playing the guitar and riding horses. really sweet, a little protected. so utterly catholic it’s almost shocking. has one girlfriend they’ve dated since middle school. you can’t help but want to hug them. sometimes smells like horse manure. gets attached to the pigs they raise and always feels bad when they sell them after competition. usually quiet. drives an expensive truck that they guard with their life. their parents are rich rich. lives on 20+ acres of land that has been in their family for over a hundred years.  

misc: sakusa has never been a texas boy in any of his past lives and will never be a texas boy in any of his future lives. texas makes his skin dry and it’s humid and muddy. dis cos tang.

-

a/n: self-explanatory. also @c0wisland and her ‘haikyuu as asian fuckboy’s inspired me to do this. what a c0w (complete 0verride (of) wow (because she gave me flack for saying she was the GOAT)) also ion know much abt the inarzaki players and afterwards...i still have to finish the mange and anime don’t @ me LOL

[yr-bed]

MF DOOM, one of my favourite rappers, died in October of 2020; it was only made public on New Year's Eve. I've had this article of reminisces from fans, friends and collaborators sat waiting to be read on my Kindle since not longer after, but never got round to reading it for whatever reason. On that aforementioned sleepless night I finally made time for it and was glad I did. This anecdote from Questlove is undoubtedly the highlight of the piece for me, for all kinds of reasons:

"It was the Voodoo record-release party for D’Angelo [in 2000], and Mos Def showed up in his kitted-up, chauffeur-driven van with music blasting. He rolled down the window and said to me, 'Yo, you gotta get in here.' I tried to convey to him that Mark Ronson and I were DJ-ing the party, but he was like, 'No, man. We gotta have a discussion.' I was preparing myself for some kind of deep talk, but he just started preaching the gospel of DOOM. I’m talking a 40-minute monologue, almost something like a Jehovah’s Witness would preach, trying to convert me to a new religion. He was like, 'Do you understand the majestic gift that is Operation: Doomsday?' At the time, I had been listening to it with a different set of ears. [I said] “Oh, is that Zev Love X’s project?'

"Before Mos turned me around, my early thoughts of Operation: Doomsday, and skimming through it, were, It’s post Wu-Tang; the loops are sloppy. Anita Baker and J.J. Fad? C’mon now … I can’t spin this in the club. My initial response was more scoff than whoa. Mos was not going to give up. He memorized that whole album like his life depended on it. He memorized it like my life depended on it. He made me listen to 'Rhymes like Dimes' three times over. He was determined to convince me that it was the dopest shit out. He kept breaking it down to me until he finally planted the seed in me."

That whole scene is just highly entertaining. Mos Def with his kitted-out car, preaching the gospel of DOOM, the phrase "we gotta have a discussion." Later in the article Questlove does a successful job of conveying one of the lesser-explored appeals of DOOM, a rapper whose apparent qualities are abundant (the Dr Doom mask, the completely unique flow and war chest of references/rhyme schemes unlike anyone else before or since, his equally idiosyncratic samples and producing style, the innumerable pseudonyms and side-projects):

“I did my homework during the next six months and realized that the new persona was DOOM’s way of coping with Subroc’s death. I didn’t want to be on the wrong side of history, and [the late producer J] Dilla had already done this with me on Madlib. When I realized that what DOOM was doing was therapy for tragedy — it had been so long since I had seen somebody in hip-hop not using it as a means of escape, or survival, or monetary means to get to the next level.”

What he's referencing there is DOOM's previous life, as a sidekick to eighties hip-hop trio 3rd Base and then as a member of KMD, which ended when his cousin and KMD co-conspirator was hit by a car and killed. There was a period where he disappeared from view and, when he returned, he'd abandoned his Zev Love X persona and was hiding behind a mask. In the years following, he'd try on any number of other aliases, including an album as King Ghidorah (the three-headed enemy of Godzilla) and Viktor Vaughan, a riff on the alter-ego of Doctor Doom, each with distinct personalities, back stories, and rap styles. DOOM's music is rarely, if ever, maudlin, but the angle of retreat and reinvention after tragedy is not one I'd factored into his work before. RIP to the Villain. I loaded Operation: Doomsday, Born Like This and Take Me to Your Leader onto my phone for a walk to Highgate cemetery and had a bloody good time.

[gizkasparadise]

cdrama rec/review: go ahead

KDRAMA AND CDRAMA MASTER LIST OF REVIEWS

Series: go ahead Episodes: 40 Genres: family, healing/melodrama, slice of life, romance Spoilers in the Rec: for the first 20% ish/set-up If You Like, You’ll Like: reply 1988, le coup de foudre, find yourself (same production company/main male actor), rain or shine/just between lovers, found family stories, meet again stories

Rank: 10/10** (see Drawbacks section)

PREMISE

widower hai chao and his 6 year old daughter jian jian live happily above his noodle restaurant despite the recent, tragic death of his wife. one day, dysfunction junction a married couple (he ping, a police officer, and chen ting, a real piece of work) move into the same building with their 7 year old son, ling xiao. immediately, jian jian attaches herself to ling xiao, who is unexpectedly grim for a small child. 

because ling xiao’s family is less-than-healthily grieving the loss of their youngest child, ling xiao’s sister who died in a terrible accident. The Apartment of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms eventually implodes, ending with chen ting abandoning her husband and son. he ping, suddenly a single father, and hai chao come to a friendly partnership that is clearly alluding to gay marriage where they co-raise both of their kids--hai chao as the primary caregiver, and he ping supporting them financially through his job as a policeman.

meanwhile, the neighborhood busybody is dead-set on getting hia chao remarried. eventually she introduces him to a divorced single mother, he mei, and her son zi qiu, who is ling xiao’s age. they sort of start to date, but it culminates in he mei skipping town and leaving zi qiu behind. hai chao, man with a heart of gold, informally adopts him and zi qiu becomes jianjian’s foster brother.

from there, the trio grow up happily and become inseparable. but once zi qiu and ling xiao graduate high school, the bullshit parade their respective childhood skeletons reappear in their lives. circumstances lead to the boys moving overseas, leaving jianjian and their fathers behind. 

they reunite after 9 years, when the boys return to a home where they hope to pick things back up from where they left off. things are more complicated than that, as jianjian finds herself in a new life and surrounded by new people. 

MAIN CHARACTERS

li jian jian

hai chao’s daughter and the only girl in the family. she attended the required short-hair-low-grades training program required of all cdrama youth female leads. super positive and outgoing, as well as the youngest of the three pseudo-siblings, jian jian grows up spoiled and over protected by her father and brothers, and as a result is completely devastated once her family falls apart. it’s so sad.

after the time skip, she’s an on-the-verge successful artist who makes woodcarvings, and exudes big art bro energy. inhales sugar like it’s nobody’s business. she inherited her father’s disease called caring too much, and it’s incurable!! 

ling xiao

the eldest brother and resident fun police. ling xiao comes from a seriously toxic home that finally seems to improve once his mother leaves. but then she comes back. fucking great. introverted to the point of being withdrawn to anyone but his chosen family, ling xiao’s had to carry a lot of emotional weight that takes a larger and larger toll on him as the series progresses. please get this boy some therapy. 

becomes a dentist because jian jian needs one. wears a lot of monochromatic outfits with low necklines because heavy angst but make it fashion. has been in love with jian jian since high school and is still carrying that torch 9 years later.

he zi qiu  

the middle child who grows up in hai chao and jian jian’s home, and is her foster brother in all but paperwork. hotheaded, zi qiu and jian jian basically share two brain cells that ling xiao routinely takes from them for safekeeping. he spoils jian jian, sneaking her snacks and junk food and wants to become a pastry chef so he can open a sweet shop for her!!

my favorite character. just wants to be wanted 8( him and hai chao’s relationship is my favorite dynamic in the series. will sob while driving a pink moped. is too proud to beg

li hai chao (left) and ling he ping (right)

the greatest (hai chao) and okayest (he ping) dads in the world! noodle dad/hai chao has never done anything wrong in his life, ever, and we know this and we love him. he ping isn’t a bad person, but demonstrates pretty classic absentee parenting/isn’t as emotionally present in his son’s life as hai chao. hai chao is the heart of the family, and would do anything for his kids 8( 

SOME SUPPORT CHARACTERS 

tang can (left) and qiu ming yue (right)

jian jian’s #GirlGang and roommates. they, like literally everyone in this drama, have some severe mom issue hang-ups. tang can (left) is a former child actress who is struggling with her lack of success as an adult and gives well-meaning but absolutely terrible advice on the regular. 

ming yue (right) is jian jian’s best friend since childhood and as an adult is trying to break free from her mother’s controlling nature--she’s also had a thing for ling xiao for the last 9 years. raises fish for symbolism purposes.

chen ting

ling xiao’s mom and certified garbage human. unable to cope with the death of her daughter that was her fault lbr, she abandons her family and disappears for ten years. she forces her way back into ling xiao’s life when he turns 18, where it’s revealed that she’s remarried and ling xiao has a younger half-sister chengzi (”little orange”). shit goes down, and soon ling xiao is forced to move back to singapore to serve as primary caregiver to both his mother who abandoned him and the half sister he barely knows. 

emotionally abusive and basically hits every single square on the toxic parent bingo card. i just. i just hate her. even typing this out is making me mad.

he mei

zi qiu’s mother. after a few dates with hai chao, she ends up ditching her kid and disappearing for unknown reasons. is a slightly better parent than chen ting but that’s like saying some poison kills you slower. the show tries to bring us around on her but it didnt work for me. 

SOME OTHERS

zhuang bei, zi qiu’s best friend growing up who i would like a lot less if he wasn’t played by the same actor who played my beloved dachuan

zheng shuran, jian jian’s first boyfriend and fellow artist who’s got a weird thing for women’s waists and pretentious artists’ statements

du juan, jian jian’s friend who co-owns their woodworking studio. has absolute trash taste in men

chengzi, ling xiao’s half-sister who can be a brat but dear god does she need to be protected/saved 

**DRAWBACKS

so this is a weird one for me. what i didn’t like i really didn’t like, but what i loved i really loved. ultimately, the factors/uniqueness of this show and the loveability of the main characters outweighed the negatives and it’s one of my favorite dramas.

THAT SAID. i got some #thoughts on this one. 

first, there are literally no positive mother figures in this show. not a damn one. they are all negligent or controlling at best or down right abusive at worst. no woman over 30 is portrayed positively and that’s a big No from me. 

the last 10 eps have some pacing issues and focus on the wrong people. spending the remaining episodes focused on one of the most universally hated characters vs. the main family was a bad move 

the show tried to redeem or make us sympathize with characters that were, to me, completely irredeemable. one case is worse than the other, but both of them were terrible people that deserved to be cut out of the main family’s lives.  

REASONS TO WATCH

the main family. the characters are so wonderful and nuanced, and their dynamics with one another were amazing. you’ll fall in love with hai chao aka noodle dad and the trio. they go through so many trials but they still stick together and it’s ultimately a healing drama and i loved it very much.

the central romance was less in focus, but the pining is enough to make jane austen emerge from the grave. i loved the leads together, and while LOL ling xiao’s attachment to jian jian was not always healthy, they supported each other and it made me smile. i love me a tortured pining dude.

#Acting. everyone played their parts to perfection. the child actors in particular were so well-cast (esp baby zi qiu)

the soundtrack lmao. you watch the opening credits and know you’ll need to buckle up

idk it’s a very unique show, and i haven’t seen one like it. reply 1988 comes close, but it doesn’t tackle the same issues and it was all just very real and earnest. 

Final Thoughts.

GOODNIGHT, GOOODBYYYYYE MY CHILDREEEEEEEN

[bakusoftie]

I don't know about you sis but I've been watching peppa pig video edits like crazy (i have very bad sense of humour) and I was wondering hoe would blasty, kiri and shinsou would react to thier s/o doing this shit because I can feel the judgment across the screen

oh my fuckiNG god those videos are so unnecessarily funny

boom boom boy

bakugou knew not to be around you during crackhead hours because you always pulled shit like this

he watched you put the picture of that annoying British fucking pig in the oven and when he asked you exactly what the fuck you were doing...

you responded with “it’s for the tik tok”

it is times like these when he contemplates why out of the 8 billion people in the world, he had to fall in love with your dumbass

“Peppa...what are you doing in my oven?”

When Bakugou heard those words, he yeeted a package of bacon at your head and yelled “BURNING AND BURNING AND BURNING AND BURNING 😡🙈”

you’ve finally broke him.

manly man

kirishima doesn’t really understand the whole ‘peppa pig’ meme when he first hears it from kaminari

but he thinks it’s the funniest shit he’s ever heard when you say it

he is so fucking confused when you pull out a mini Peppa Pig toy from your bag and say “Peppa...what are you doing in my Valentino White bag?”

he just awkwardly laughs along with you because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings by not laughing

he just,,,doesn’t,,,GET IT

sometimes he’ll attempt to do it too but he doesn’t do it right. it’s pretty cute to see him try though.

“Uh...Peppa,,,what are you doing in my manly workout room?”

cue Kiri doing the ‘ah ha ha’ e-boy laugh

this is some scary shit, dude

Sleepy Kitty

this boy is an ultimate memelord

he despises the Peppa Pig meme, it has no taste

dis cos tang

if you’re gonna meme, you better do it right.

he will rip whatever print-out Peppa Pig you have and show you a better meme that will never die.

the superior meme

Danny Devito

better fuck off with that greasy ass pig shit or else 😡

you’re disrespecting his culture with that overdone, stupid trend

“fuck Peppa Pig lives” - Shinsou Hitoshi

[seongpinkhwa]

Dark chocolate tastes like SHIT, y’all should drink coffee instead of having this dis cos tang thing

YESSSS LISTEN TO SIMAL EVERYONE!!!! DOWN WITH DARK CHOCOLATE UP WITH COFFEEEEEE

[marlbroooo]

Might as well

So, ayun nga. Nag post ako na gusto ko mag isa pero gusto ko ng kausap. Tas after ko i-click yung post, narealize ko na baka gusto ko lang mag vent out. Bigla ko din naisip na “oh, kaya nga pala ako may tumblr.” 

So ayun, living alone is really fun. Wala akong pake sa mundo. I’m literally in my own bubble just like how I like it. May mga times lang talaga na mag crave ka ng connection. Pero like right now, di nga ata connection yung kaylangan ko. Gusto ko lang mag rant at mag vent. I feel so disappointed at myself with work right now. Alam mo yung feeling na, what the fuck, di ko parin masyadong gets yung ginagawa ko. Pero given naman siguro yon sa situation ko, tutal tatlong buwan palang naman ako in my actual work and every case na pumapasok is bago. Siguro nasanay lang ako sa pag co-code na I can approach the problem from multiple angles. With my new work kasi, medyo limited ako sa options ko and my knowledge of the product. Oh well, I should probably just man up and just git gud.

Ahhh, I should really just spill it out. Sobrang confused ako sa gusto ko ngayon. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I know what I wanna do in life. I wanna be filthy rich. Siguro ang pinaka tanong lang is, “do I really have to do it with someone beside me?” Recently I’ve been in this kind of ‘label-less’ limbo with a girl and at first, sabi ko sa sarili ko na “ok, I wanna be with her” she turned me down and told me na we should just take it slow. Ok, turned down. Let’s take it slow then. Tapos, recently she told me na she’s been thinking about it. Tang ina, ako yung tumiklop? Di ko sya nabigyan ng straight answer. Akala ko gusto ko din yun pero nung napresent na sa harap ko yung opportunity di ko alam gagawin ko. Di ko alam kung gusto ko rin ba talaga. Ang labo ko, no? I suppose not answering straight just lengthen our ‘label-less’ limbo situation pero I dunno. Siguro kasi gusto ko yung freedom ko ngayon na wala akong pake sa mundo. I care about her though, don’t get me wrong pero alam mo yung di ko iniisip yung mga bagay bagay in a typical relationship. O siguro kasi nasanay lang ako sa mga nadaanan kong toxic relationship.

Simpleng lalake lang naman ako. Gusto ko mag laro ng vidja games. I like watching movies. I like music. That’s it. Bilang lalake, given na siguro yung may urges ako pero lahat naman siguro? Ang selfish pakinggan pero ang gusto ko lang naman is to find someone na would care enough to talk to me pero not limit what I’m doing. Or you know, maybe I’m a piece of shit who doesn’t care for anyone but himself. Who knows. Di ko din alam eh. 27 na ko pero di ko parin fully kilala sarili ko hehe.

Kung binasa mo lahat to, kung sino ka man, thanks. Like mo to, para follow kita hehe.

Bye.

[themattress]

Evangelion: the manga > the anime

Reason 13: The Ending

This is it. The big one. The reason above all else why I think the manga is a better-told version of the NGE story than the anime in spite of all the anime’s many strengths. 

Only the manga has a fully satisfying ending.

The anime TV show ending is a preposterous puzzle, filled with increasingly low-budget animation and long-winded philosophical musings as Anno finally makes good on what he had been building to: using the show and characters for his own personal therapy session, which we are a captive audience to. The main details is that Instrumentality has happened...somehow, and that Shinji is in control over whether or not it will go through to completion...somehow. In his depressed state of mind, Shinji is tempted to just let the process run its course so that all life will merge into a single immortal being who will never feel emotional pain again. But with realizations such as there is no real sense of self without the presence of others, truth and reality is what an individual make of it, and that he’s projected his own fears, anxieties and self-loathing onto others in order to shape his negative self-image and that this can fixed, Shinji realizes there is value in living as himself and destroys Instrumentality.

I love the message in this ending and I especially love the conclusion - yeah, everyone clapping and telling Shinji “Congratulations!” is cheesy, but seeing them all smiling and then Shinji himself smiling as a beautiful instrumental version of “Cruel Angel’s Thesis” plays in the background is a great, uplifting note to end what has been such a dark, depressing story on. BUT the lack of details, plot development, or conclusive character development for anyone who isn’t Shinji in favor of all this sermonizing is really annoying. From what can be surmised, a lot of things in the outside world seem to have played similarly to EoE, but it is strongly implied that it’s Gendo’s version of Instrumentality that succeeded here: Gendo, with Adam inside him, merges with Rei who returns to Lilith, creating the Adam/Lilith hybrid being but with Gendo’s mind in control of it. However, his plan to merge with Unit 01 and reunite with Yui goes awry thanks to the mentality of its pilot, Shinji (no thanks to Gendo himself, so it’s pretty karmic), who inadvertently causes the interfusion of souls to happen. The two-part series finale transpires within the minds of all who are caught up in this, particularly Shinji. But by then, viewers were fed up with this kind of mind-screw, so this ending was panned.

Then we have EoE, where we finally get actual details and plot development in the outside world. The big difference is that Rei abruptly turns on Gendo, taking Adam for herself and entering Lilith without him. The Adam/Lilith hybrid being merges with Unit 01 and puts Instrumentality in Shinji’s hands, and this time Shinji consciously and deliberately enacts the interfusion of souls, saying “everyone can just die” (boy, doesn’t that make him likable, huh?)

This is part of EoE’s biggest problem: it is made when Anno is no longer in a state of therapeutic pondering, but a state of anger and hatred. This anger and hatred permeates throughout the entire movie, informing every choice made in it. Shinji jerks off over Asuka’s comatose body. Misato is cold and abusive toward Shinji, and then dies for nothing. Shinji doesn’t honor her final wishes and just mopes. Asuka receives an uplifting emotional closure that brings her badassness back, only to be defeated in battle and utterly brutalized. Ritsuko fails because one of her mother’s AI computers betrays her in favor of Gendo, who shoots her dead. Gendo is killed in a mind-screwy way that plays to his worst fears and offers no redemption whatsoever. Shinji strangles Asuka within his own mind, then proceeds to willfully destroy humanity. And during the equivalent to the TV show’s therapeutic sequence where Shinji changes his mind about Instrumentality, the Adam/Lilith hybrid being has its throat sliced open right after actual written death threats to Anno from fans disgruntled over the TV show’s ending flashes on screen. And through all of this, Shinji just keeps SCREAMING!!!

This cinematic ending is wonderfully directed, beautifully animated, and contains a lot of great ideas, but it is just so unpleasant to watch. Even when coming to the same uplifting message, it falls flat when the last scene is Shinji washed up on the shore of a barren hellscape along with “Asuka”, who he truly does strangle this time, only to stop when she touches his face which leads to him breaking down into heavy sobbing. Asuka quietly says “How disgusting”, and suddenly “The End” comes on screen. That’s it, that’s how it ends: not with Shinji being congratulated and smiling, but Shinji crying while being insulted yet again. What. The. Fuck!?  If the TV show’s ending was the equivalent of Anno guiding the viewer through a slow, tranquil therapy session in order to lead them to the story’s moral, this ending is the equivalent of Anno mercilessly beating the shit out of the viewer until they grasp the story’s moral. And the problem with that is that most viewers aren’t going to remember the moral, they’re just going to remember the beating! Anno failed to stick the landing twice, and unfortunately I’m hedging my bets that he’s going to strike out with his third attempt next year in the ending to the Rebuild film series, especially with how that series has gone thusfar.

With the manga’s ending, Sadamoto combines the tranquil therapeutic sensibilities and clearly uplifting message of the TV ending with the plot and detail of EoE. It’s essentially EoE as it should have been, since it’s being made by someone who isn’t in such a negative state of mind as Anno was. Each alteration made here is an improvement, and these include:

- Shinji doesn’t jerk off to Asuka’s comatose body, and instead tries to shake her awake while yelling about how much she means to him. She wakes up in a fit of indiscriminate madness and (hilariously enough) strangles Shinji before being restrained by the infirmary staff.

- That scene with Gendo and Shinji is added, doing wonders for both characters.

- Misato, while maintaining a hardened edge, isn’t abusive to Shinji. After slapping him when it’s necessary, she pulls him into a hug, saying that she isn’t like Gendo - she wants him to pilot Eva, but not just for others: for himself, too, and that she won’t allow him to lose hope.

- Misato is given a more triumphant send-off, blowing herself and several enemy troops up with a grenade rather than just being shot down. We also get a chapter cover where she is reunited with Kaji in the afterlife. I still hate that she died, but this is better than EoE’s version.

- Rather than moping and wasting Misato’s last request when he sees Unit 01 stuck, Shinji rediscovers his backbone and wills it free by appealing to Yui’s soul within it. (“MOVE!”) Because of this, Shinji is able to rescue Asuka before she can be brutalized by the MP-Evas. 

- After Rei turns on Gendo, it is revealed that Ritsuko isn’t quite dead after Gendo had shot her after all, and she is able to fatally shoot him through the neck before finally expiring. 

- Shinji’s mind-fucking when the Adam/Lilith hybrid being merges with Unit 01 is portrayed completely different, centering around a flashback between him and Yui. The decision he comes to deliberately initiate the interfusion of souls has a completely different motivation: he wants to save everyone rather than destroy them, Lilith messing with his mind has skewed his noble intentions and made him believe that Instrumentality is the only way to stop everyone from suffering ever again. This, along with what ends up happening later, maintains sympathy for Shinji, as he is trying to do the right thing and is being misled on how to do it.

- Asuka gets “tanged” during Instrumentality, with the Rei spirit who does so to her appearing to her as Kaji, whom Asuka is happy to realize did love her even if in a fatherly way and not in the romantic/sexual sense, which provides some closure to that relationship. Given that Asuka spoke of Kaji after her mind rape in both the anime and manga, this is appreciated.

- Gendo’s death isn’t a cruel WTF moment, but his only measure of atonement as Yui’s spirit guides him to remember that he did love Shinji from the start and denied that to himself because he was afraid of loving his child and being loved by his child given the issues he developed with his own father. Gendo’s dying wish is for Shinji to survive...and to live.

- The climax within the merged Adam/Lilith hybrid and Unit 01 is between Shinji and Rei (no needless Kaworu cameo here). Instead of Rei, then Kaworu, and finally Yui convincing Shinji to reverse course, Shinji decides it all by himself: his head is now clear of Lilith’s meddling and he realizes that this horrific result isn’t what he wanted after all...yes, everyone will no longer suffer, but only because there no longer is an “everyone” to suffer. Even if it comes with pain, people can only be people when they are allowed to be their own individuals and co-exist with each other. Rei had re-joined Lilith hoping for this exact outcome, and together she and Shinji re-awakens Yui’s soul and they destroy the Adam/Lilith hybrid being together, reversing Instrumentality and returning all souls to where they belong in a truly spectacular sequence. Thus, as “Cruel Angel’s Thesis” says, does a young boy become a legend.

- Rei has an emotional death scene where, without Adam/Liltih to sustain her, her soul breaks apart and is fragmented across the new Earth, becoming snow. Her final words to Shinji are thanking him for helping her develop her own individual self, and her final thoughts are that she, merged with the new world, will be waiting for Shinji to be reborn there. It’s beautiful.

- Before Shinji fully becomes LCL in preparation for his rebirth, he actually sees the souls of Yui and Gendo, projected from Unit 01 which remains in space. This brings closure to the main theme of the story: the relationship between Shinji and his parents, combining a visual from the TV ending (Shinji smiling as he is congratulated by his parents) and Yui’s inspiring words from EoE (”As long as the sun and the moon and the Earth exists, it will be all right.”) 

- The perfect epilogue to the story, where we actually get to see the new world and humanity reborn into it rather than just Yui’s claims that it could happen. It is snowing, which means a proper weather cycle is back rather than endless summer. The MP-Evas are frozen like statues, and are considered mysterious artifacts by humans, who no longer remember anything involving Evas and the Angels. The new, well-adjusted Shinji meets the new, well-adjusted Asuka for the first time (oh, and Kensuke too). And the sequence of Shinji walking down the street mirrors the beginning of the manga, except this time his inner monologue is different: uplifting and optimistic rather than depressed and cynical. As we see that he still bears the crucifix that Misato gave him before she died, we hear that he is keeping his promise to her: “I will do my best. I will find my own path. It may be rough and winding, with driving wind and rain, and some days may be freezing cold. But...I know the sun will light the way. My future...holds infinite possibilities”.  Damn it! It brings tears to my eyes every time!

Sadamoto is the only one to end the story of NGE in a truly ideal way. And this factor alone is justification for my unshakable belief that the manga is the definitive version of that story.

[tuyetthienduong]

K

Hai fao cu ganh trsm shick shield ganh ma trum luon tram chia se con nhou

Ganhh het dao birth hole

Dao that ko thay duoc ko sien giai duoc ryc

Thanh nhan hanh nuoc may cua team

Toep nha xchua het fai

Do monk bo tat phat la em all

Kiem dao huy dao all

Xiu gium team nay vi wua do bao hom bach va huy nan nhan xhinh huhu tu nhien

Le

Tje true dao

Do ho em team vua nay thay do vi gian

Same team do cho em add team nong cot vo nha team bo nguoi yeu eyc sll do

Nguoi yeu thu ba moi 12 tioi hanh het

Le k2 dap cu 0 s vi ko tin noi gian xiu roi

Lumos and anh 23 and 17 anh phuc em yui anh chua tungnghi tou luon heheh hieu roi

Mexh

Ee

Moi dua 3 cai le

3

Dua anh hganh ci wua fuc gian 0s

3-3-3 dao moi

New mem ganh

Them 1 dua voi tui minh nua

Dang ki

Cho hai DungA assistants of mmine

Moi 3-3-3 ko co fao in names thoi

Hai DungA ganh 1h

Them nua huhu lan dau tien thay bat luc vi ko thr

Drinks 0s main ass in three meaning

Xiu vi tu hai do gium

Xay dung nen tang hien the gioi cu cua p

Anh 16 hihi dung roi do em hihi

Anh 24 ok di nhien roi anh chiu het noi roi anh yeu em

Xiu xing tou

Do hai thang chinh cua em hieu lam

O du duy nhat cua team len chon luon cho khoi co chhuyen

Ok chinh kiem nguoi yeu cu thu tu

Sui bi wua rach roi ca tram nua

Sui team anh qua chuan ganh minh en ghen nhat thien ha biet tu luc moi gap di lon ma obg dam nhu op man op man con ciu huhu

13 ngay nua dang tinhbgio 15:30:34

Team che do thich lam ban dem sui vi xiu for every meaning

Le vi ban dem shit cac Nguyen Hien 0s hihi ton vinh em di

All le phu ho chung ta toi do NH 0s

All le cho ba anh ngay gio nua nay ai ganh mem sui vi yuc gian het roi ocn nuoi eyc nong cot nua

Bai ca chien tranh em buff 0s all reasons in the world hay theo ta

Vang a dai vuong

Qua bai by ba anh

Sui khoc etc linh moi cho ba anh

Ngay gio cua ba linh moi NH 0s for all teasons by a doctoral srudent

Kill reasons for reasosn

1j

Khoc gium jekr nam co ikekr

Ngay gio xho hai assistant

Trum hiet hon thang hack sdt ma cu cua em ma em ko biet xai media

Bi tat nttt assistant hua biet vi tri gi chi em kiem nhieu mang wuaxiu ci tu hao

Anh 20 tuoi team old place nhan vinh du saint all positions ass for fj

Gi ocho thang 10 vo i12 tuoi xiu vi doi wua phu

New moon

Doi cai gi dang tra

Bi tay

Chhuyen gia lam le level sdmjn ko biet deo gi nhu dai cuong NH cung ta tran voi linh moi gap va chhua gap xiu

Nh2 tu nhirn

Mat trou that mau den

Giet nh3

Nguou tyr thu tu xiu vi dong that

All emotions for de tu cxhan truyen thu nhat google

Dr tu ma dectect wue khong minh

Bong ma rhu hai

Me too lo nua roi keim 3 thu thoi hii

Mactran non 2 qua bai by ba anh

0s for NH 3 anh

All others by ba anh sau do sui vi wua trung thanh toi ghost so mot Tao Thao con sui

Toan hoc ma

Le again sui

Ma toan hoc khong minh ca safari ma trum

Xiu vi wua xuc dong

Le cai nua cho xhan 3

Bai ca bong manchi con kat an cua tu nhien va em

Dao chan 5 10 rtc

Love os total

Dac dao 5 am only Tao Thao bu tat vi song loi so mot moi detect me biet lau roi nhin cai linh la biet so voi tYh di huhu

Jerk ang reo khoai ma lia del si biet hay do nua lion rm do huhu

Hieu chua

3 anh lanh dung hianh

Doi de an

Tuoi tho rm do

Full team can tho permanently

Ld kill now

Tu than hai

Doat hon

Truyen boi tu than

De tu chan truyen suy nhat

By ko lam le

Huhu

Tinh ngay

Tu than wua nan roi

3 anh nua nha may anh kia can coi cxubg bi giet do

De ma tan

Tu nhien truyen nghe

Hai

Same

Le

Ma doc no1 nhuep chinh do ko ai hack noi dau die lay tien ho em roi dung jackers. Doi lay may cai mang cua nay anh do 3 schools lat do ngoi vua o my mark lam vua

Phat wifi cho thay linh TTH giup mark

Nhiep xhinh no1, invincibile, Creator

fjadminfhost

TieunhanQuantuDacDao

No1 in yhree

Dao 4 song dung ban hat du song dung tu now

Doi wian doi ve cantho ha noi know dung la vua team

Phu ho by me

Chuyen nho

Song am TTH himself

De hai DungA dang run so giai thich the nao:

Linh tang hinh tru linh chi Quynh

Song duong

Dreams come true

Linh tyh phu ho by Wuynh

De hai DubgA sap sui van lam tron nhiem vi

Diem nguc hete

Wuan Trobg len lam via

Hai ma kia thei phu cjo thich tong va con lai thu tuong all and you dont remember now

Ghost 6

Xiu vi wua tu hao you too because con o minh yoy a main hiii kiss dam sau

Kiss tiep

Host 6 o ha noi tram vua tinh roi vua du nhu moi khi

Chi cu theo anh 23

Bat duoc roi

Giong noi cua Dacibooks

Nguoi eyu thu tu

TeM sui vi wua manh toan dau voi tu nhien va cai chet

T e le fake 0s by me

Le moi for ghoassts including Tao

Phu ho by me

Song

Do phan boi

Cheat team giet stuff phan oi

Ba mark dong y do tien va noi vay thii chu do xong roi

12 ngay

Qua nan cho triumph va lan

Help us to America we need vn no more

All vn team cry

Ba mark noi huhu ba di ko noi nua mỹ toi

It's true team vietnam take that and mine

Hien thang cho stuff vua nay lay nan wuankhoi cua my stufc

Xiu tiep team my ability cs my knowledge

Mang qua lon

[disappointingyet]

The King Of Staten Island

Director Judd Apatow Stars Pete Davidson, Marisa Tomei, Bill Burr, Bel Powley USA 2020 Language English 2hrs 17mins Colour 

Will pampered stoner dude ever attain his dreams?

[SPOILERS OF SORTS, BUT HONESTLY, IF YOU DON’T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN IN THIS FILM, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?]

1. Since this film – typically for a Judd Apatow-directed comedy-drama – is absurdly, unmercifully long, I’m going to try to keep this review fairly short. Also typically for an Apatow film, it’s about an overindulged manchild.

2. This one of those semi-autobiographical ‘here’s the loser I would have been if I hadn’t become famous’ movies. It stars and was co-written by Saturday Night Live regular/boyfriend to the famous Pete Davidson. Like Davidson, central character Scott Carlin comes from Staten Island. And, equally importantly, both are sons of firefighters who died in the line of duty. 

3. Scott is drifting through his twenties, with a vague ambition of one day opening a tattoo restaurant (yep, tattoo restaurant). Because this is this kind of movie, there’s a young woman who has her shit together yet for inexplicable reasons is waiting for him to realise what matters in life. She’s played by West Londoner Bel Powley, doing what sounds to me like a worthy shot at a Staten Island accent. (Let me know if you disagree.)

4. Maybe the most important the you need to know about this film is: it will never, not for a second, surprise you. Will Scott act like a total dick repeatedly and be forgiven? Yes. Will being forced to look after young kids force Scott to grow up a bit? Of course. Will finally confronting the loss of his father by spending time hanging out with firefighters provide a breakthrough? What do you reckon.

5. If you don’t mind the utter predictability, the sprawling running time, the fact that we are meant to be rooting for this waste of space, TKOSI has its moments. Scott’s mates are reasonably entertaining, if fairly stock. Marisa Tomei is as beautiful as ever in her mid-50s. There is a scattering (a scattering, mind) of decent jokes.

6. Noted FDNY veteran Steve Buscemi is the cast. Surprisingly, this is apparently the first time he has played a firefighter on screen. This is not one of his great roles. Incidentally, his 1996 directorial debut Trees Lounge (95 minutes long) is a far superior take on the ‘path I could’ve gone down’ movie.

7. Hometown heroes the Wu-Tang Clan are referenced repeatedly on T-shirts and even on a mural but don’t appear (either individually or collectively) on the soundtrack.

8. Which reminds me that Rza is in Apatow’s Funny People, and that this – if nothing else – is vastly more enjoyable than gruelling slog of a movie. Let’s be thankful for small mercies, I guess. 

[jimmygeurts]

BEST RECORDS OF 2016

ANOHNI, Hopelessness

In a year where there was a lot of despondency in politics, Hopelessness best conveyed the current climate. Dance music has always been more political than it gets credit for, but Anohni makes that connection explicit with electronic tracks about drones, climate change and mass surveillance — made even more relevant as Obama hands that legacy over to Trump. Yet it’s also musically captivating thanks to the production, with Oneohtrix Point Never and Hudson Mohawke assisting. The result is an album that could be the soundtrack to a party full of depressed Glenn Greenwald readers.

Beyoncé, Lemonade

In a year where Beyoncé‘s newest was absorbed into the national consciousness and co-opted again and again and again, it’s easy to overlook what an ambitious work of art the actual album is. It takes the classic break-up (in this case, strained relationship) album template and turns it into a grand tapestry blending a variety of genres. It’s got the best Isaac Hayes sample since Wu-Tang Clan’s “I Can’t Go to Sleep” (”6 Inch”), a Jack White-assisted rollicking track (”Don’t a piano ballad (“Sandcastles”) and a country tune (”Daddy Lessons”). That’s not even counting the accompanying movie, the best Terrence Malick movie in a year where the director released two.

Frank Ocean, Blonde

In a year when meme culture ran rampant, Frank Ocean finally answered “Frank Ocean where the album at” after four years with his follow-up to 2012’s channel ORANGE. (Two, if you count his visual album/woodworking seminar Endless.) Proving that we should've just left Ocean alone to do his work, he turned in the kind of rewarding, ambitious record that every fan hopes for after a long wait. The musical highlight of the year may have been the mid-song switch-up in “Nights.”

Kanye West, The Life of Pablo

In a year where the ever-divisive Kanye West finally went a bridge too far for many by vocally supporting Trump, at least he had the decency to release his record months earlier. That’s not to say The Life of Pablo is all smooth sailing, with the Taylor Swift talk on “Famous” and the Chris Brown feature on “Waves” (which, regrettably, Chance the Rapper supposedly lobbied for.) But for every one of those, there would be multiple brilliant tracks like the modern gospel of “Ultra Light Beam” or the confessional “Real Friends.” Even if “I miss the old Kanye” proved to be unironically true with a large part of his audience, the album was a reminder of why folks have stayed with him this far.

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Skeleton Tree

In a year where David Bowie and Leonard Cohen both released albums grappling with mortality, so did Nick Cave’s latest, though not with his own. Much of the album had been written before the death of his son, and he’s always been able to write emotionally wrenching music, as No More Shall We Part and The Boatman’s Call demonstrated. But it's particularly wrenching considering the real-life circumstances surrounding the making of the album. By the time it gets to the gently heartbreaking self-titled closer, it's almost too painful.

Radiohead, A Moon Shaped Pool

In a year when seemingly every artist who had an anticipated album released it, that included Radiohead’s first record in five years. After 2011′s The King of Limbs, A Moon Shaped Pool is a move away from that earlier album’s electronic sound and into the lush strings and instrumentation of tracks like “Daydreaming” and “Glass Eyes.” For those who claimed the band had retreated too far into chilliness, it’s a warm rejoinder. That includes the closer “True Love Waits,” a song first performed in 1995 and made even more heartbreaking after Thom Yorke’s separation from (and the recent death of) longtime partner Rachel Owen.

Rihanna, ANTI

In a year that was uncommonly strong for pop albums, ANTI seems like it may have regrettably fallen by the wayside a little. (Its January release date and somewhat puzzling record roll out strategy probably didn't help.) Yet Rihanna’s eighth album is her best yet and one of the year’s best, period. Sure, there was the Drake-featuring mega-hit “Work,” but the best tracks were deep cuts woozy on love, drink and drugs like the brief, blissed-out “James Joint,” the throwback soul of “Love on the Brain” and the ballad “Higher.”

Run the Jewels, Run the Jewels 3

In a year where the general mood was pretty bleak, Run the Jewels pushed on through like a superhero running through a stream of bullets bouncing off them. Run the Jewels 3 may not have the surprise element of their first two records, but the duo continue to find great new production, courtesy of El-P, and shit-talking turns of phrase. Take Killer Mike’s line on “Talk to Me”: “my job is to fight for survival/in spite of these All Lives Matter-ass white folk.” Releasing it on the Christmas holiday to ruin too-early year-end lists was also a nice touch.

Solange, A Seat at the Table

In a year where her sister Beyoncé’s album dominated pop culture, Solange showed she should be considered in the same class with her own fantastic record. It's one of the year’s most gratifying listens at 21 tracks, including interludes that are actually integral for once. It also brings a large list of collaborators like soul producer Raphael Saadiq, Lil Wayne, Kelela and more. But the real star is Solange, who on tracks like the gorgeous single “Cranes in the Sky” makes a case for herself as a major musical voice.

A Tribe Called Quest, We got it from Here...Thank You 4 Your Service

In a year that was often just plain rough and rotten, the first A Tribe Called Quest album in 18 years (and their best since 1993′s Midnight Marauders) was like a breath of fresh air. Even it couldn’t escape the darkness of 2016 entirely, released after the death of member Phife Dawg. Still, the record feels like a tonic with the classic interplay between the group and inspired samples such as the Elton John-lifting “Solid Wall of Sound.” At the same time, it has no room for staying stuck in the past, confronting the struggles of modern America and shouting-out a new generation of rappers like Kendrick Lamar and Earl Sweatshirt on “Dis Generation.”

Honorable mentions: Against Me!, Shape Shift with Me, American Football, American Football, Angel Olsen, My Woman, The Body, No One Deserves Happiness, Chance the Rapper, Coloring Book, Danny Brown, Atrocity Exhibition, David Bowie, Blackstar, The Exquisites, Home, Marissa Nadler, Strangers, Mitski, Puberty 2

Great but an EP: Carly Rae Jepsen, Emotion Side B, Kendrick Lamar, untitled unmastered

Only a song but it’s Colossal: Colossal, “Cast Iron Forest”

[ethelbertpaul444-blog]

5 Stupid Things We Need To Stop Clicking On

We “re living” the final choke of the Information Age. Experts estimate that 62 percent of all the points we now receive is purposely mistaken, and that includes the percentage and professionals I made up at the start of this sentence. The sad fact is, the majority of members of you are able to never have the critical envisage or research abilities to know what’s real, and that will simply manufacture you more absolutely convinced the erroneous situations your stupid ass belief. The good story is that this article isn’t about that shit. The imitation information fighting is over, and stupid won. No, this article is about the dumb things we all keep falling for — even you, the genius who chose the right political area and religion. 5 Pointlessly Insane Product Are Not That At All Last year, Tiffany& Co. started selling the Sterling Silver Tin Can, an empty can that costs $1,000. You’ll notice that this is far more than you’d naturally pay for soupless garbage. To be clear, this wasn’t some tin can that once impounded Prince’s final dark-green nuts. It’s simply a can. As an imaginative word, it was 50 years stale, and as a money-making strategy, it was somewhere between a portable diarrhea carton and that same product without a eyelid. It’s the kind of sentiment that they are able to offset the other Saved By The Bell novelists tell, “Look, if you’re not ready to come back to effort, make more time off to deal with the death of your son.” The item I’m building is that it’s hard-boiled not to comment on Tiffany’s silly can, and that’s more appealing to Tiffany& Co. than where reference is comment on how the ones who quarried their concoctions all lived of slavery. “Darling, I was part of many someones transcending penetration to convert a utilitarian men’s room into an installment of signature Tiffany oeuvre.” — this Tiffany copywriter justifying to his wife why “theres” seven colourings of pubic hair in his underpants Read Next 8 Baffling Poop-Themed Toys Kids Are Lining Up To Buy And it’s is not simply tin cans and Wu-Tang recordings that are marketed in intentionally strange modes. Food advertisers have figured out that they can get more attention by being ridiculous than by being delicious. Retain when KFC employed fried chicken as sandwich food in the Double Down? Or when Chick-Fil-A announced that their fried chicken detested lesbian people with the Cajun Titty Jiggler? We all made amusing of them, but they perfectly did not care. These are people souring pigeon meat and “deported” foreign nationals into nugget figures. They’ll take any press they can get. We need to stop doing this. It’s very possible the only conversation any of us had or will ever have about Dr. Pepper started when they liberated a special copy of their soda for men exclusively . We all went on Twitter to add stuffs like, “Forbidding females from savor Dr. Pepper Ten will only retard the disclosure that it’s made from semen , not stop it completely.” We asked questions like, “Why would you make a soda for men exclusively? Are you trying to find the perfect drink to pair with losing custody of your adolescents? ” Or maybe you are only pondered, “Dr. Pepper Ten sounds like the refreshing discus you contact for when defending an alleged rapist you haven’t met.” SORRY LADIES, OUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR IS STILL DEALING WITH SOME CHILDHOOD TRAUMA INVOLVING PENISES . b> Products should conclude the customer happy , not be so intentionally foolish that the customer hears about them during a Jimmy Kimmel monologue. You shouldn’t spawn every tenth new Oreo out of cat suppository in the hopeles said he hoped that cookie influencers tweet about it. And pizza, you peculiarly need to get your shit together. In 2012, a Pizza Hut employee happened upon the relevant recommendations of a hot-dog-stuffed crust, relatively by coincidence, when his administrator caught him fucking a pizza and asked written explanations. This distinguished the last experience there would ever has become a non-insane pizza ability. Today, pizza marketing is a series of deranged inventions, like a serial killer’s pilgrimage toward becoming the Minotaur. For speciman, Pizza Hut created “smart” shoes that situate an degree for you. Aside from get the elderly to wonder what they’re going to come up with next, what the fuck good do pizza shoes do anyone? If you have a use for dictating Pizza Hut via shoe, your foot is going to fall off from diabetes long before you get to make love a second time. essay > And did you know that Domino’s devoted millions of dollars promoting something called “carryout insurance? ” It’s what it sounds like — a monetary guarantee that when your haphazard ass puts a pizza, they give you another one. Aside from getting us to mention how foolish that is, what’s the pitch? Was there a community of overweight idiots devouring pizza off the foot and involving their representatives do something? Let’s say it’s only to place your subconsciou at ease. Let’s profess you’re “ve been thinking about” prescribing Domino’s, but decide against it because you’re always stopping pizza. Will this convince you? Of track not. You’re not even here. You were taken in the night by mad scientists, and now you’re a bulge of brain material named “HISTORY’S SADDEST FUCK.” “CARRYOUT INSURANCE !? Hey, boss? Yeah, I just perceived a loophole that gives me boundless flooring pizza. So what I’m saying is you can kiss my ass . i> “ div > 4 All Things “Of The Year” Are Arbitrary Decisions Made By Small Teams Of Random Assholes We are living in the darkest of goes. Our current sexiest guy alive looks like a rectangle who acquires its living hustling milk-drinking contests. “I’m digesting four gallons of Half& Half. Hi, I’m Blake Shelton, your sexiest mortal alive.” When People store announced hoedown music standout Blake Shelton as the sexiest humankind alive while Casper Van Dien was still not dead, it stumbled like a bomb. Every Gab report and Safeway express lane had a hot take on it. It wasn’t simply controversial; it was a direct challenge to what vaginal lubrication even wanted. What will it do to society if passably handsome NASCAR dads are the brand-new standard of seductive? Do we need to stop doing sit-ups? Will there be enough denim? What will Casper Van Dien do with this boner? div > You know what we should have been doing that whole season? Not establishing a shit about how handsome Blake Shelton is. Don’t get me wrong, Blake Shelton is alright. His condoms maybe don’t expire, and if he was arrested for sodomizing a dairy moo-cow, you’d anticipate “Him? ” But let’s not play games. He’s not the sexiest male alive. At best, he’s “Oklahoma’s Hottest Mostly Ham DNA.” But we should remember that this isn’t some enormous honor decided by appraising the gonad stimulation of test subjects. “Sexiest Man Alive” is picked by four or five journalists desperately trying to hang onto print media chores, and every now and then one of them is smart enough to say, “What if we trolled everyone? ” With all respect to Blake Shelton’s fuckability, if you died trying to learn a prosthetic forearm how to give a handjob, the People organization would write your figure up on the “Sexiest Man Alive MAYBES” board. It’s important is maintaining mind how insignificant these entitlements are before we get outraged. Before Donald Trump, Time opened its 2006 “Person of the Year” title to You, as in the second-person pronoun. And in 1938 they gave it to Hitler, the Donald Trump of 1938. These are meaningless choices meant to engender awful conversations between uninteresting people. Did you think LaTonya from Fayetteville was chosen as Jet ‘s “Beauty of the Week” because of her prevailing tits and smile? Wake up. It’s because her front tattoo announces “Abortion is Bae.” Please, all of us, we have to stop get outsmarted by the Jet magazines of the world. 3 It’s Not An Contest When Fictional Characters Die In 1992, DC Comics killed Superman — an indestructible ventriloquist with laser noses, frost wheeze, and chronosphere-bending flight speed — with a rock ogre who was pretty good at punching. Despite it being the third occasion he had died, the country is entered into mourning and the tale was picked up by the actual bulletin. Which was weird, because if the media wanted to cover upsetting Superman fibs, where were they when his girlfriend get turned into a pony and fucked his mare? I think about this every day. Every day. div > Why are we so preoccupied with fictional deaths? Most of the time, they’re not even real in the make-believe macrocosm in which they happen. Captain America and Batman vanish around 20 epoches a year, each in different combinations of fake-outs, resurgences, and universe reboots. If a dead guy’s best friends own a meter machine and the Eye of Agamotto, you can probably hold back on making funeral proposals. And if your favorite person dies on The Walking Dead , perhaps don’t debris an hour watching Chris Hardwick cry until you accompany the body. It should help you relax knowing that most fictional fatalities are exclusively abusive escapades, but the “real” ones are about as meaningless. I mean, you knew there wasn’t going to be any more Firefly . This death cost us maybe two wisecracks. div > Remember when Han Solo expired? He was a 73 -year-old laser gun fighter scheduled to get his own movie in three years. His death was both long overdue and altogether inconsequential to the amount of Han Solo you will continue to see on your TV. His father-in-law, Darth Vader, was on screen for about 36 minutes before he died in 1983, and since his death, there have been more Anakin Skywalker narratives than anyone could ever require. Anakin Skywalker is the Nicolas Cage of outer space. He stopped making good movies three decades ago, more he’s still everywhere and radiating inexplicable planetary energy. If George R. R. Martin gone on TV to announce that a comet smacked Westeros between works and everyone in A Song Of Ice And Fire is lead, how is that different from “the worlds” you’re living in now? The chap have undoubtedly wanted to focus more on snacks for about four works. You know what’s sadder than identifying Ned Stark get his head chopped off? Watching some fragile-hearted slobs go across the various stages of sorrow in a YouTube video afterwards. Mothers, if your child is filming themselves weep over a make-believe death, that’s a bigger default than if your child is filming themselves pee into a tube sock for Patreon advocates. I symbolize, you can do whatever you demand, but when you cry over forgery people whom you can still hear every day for as long as you miss, you’re exclusively sending a message to the people around you that you’re a drastic piece of shit. But I know something that will ovation you up! 2 Being Special Is Free That’s right, I said it. You’re welcome. It’s pretty easy to sell someone nothing more than the notion that they’re special or important for actual money. For illustration, somewhere right now, a Todd is looking through a rack of keychains to see if they have one with his reputation on it. “I hope they have a Todd, ” he might announce as he thumbs through dusty debris. “They do! And it’s spelled right ! b> ” So Todd will buy it, a cute remember of the worst collected in the least interesting part of a town he formerly called, and it will never occur to him that an Indonesian plant gambled and won that a completely shitty Todd would one day pay money to prompt himself of his own name. This next part is way off-topic, but not even the Indonesians could have foreseen that this keychain would one day be used to frame Todd … … for Toddslaughter. div > Back to the point I was trying to utters: We are all prone to this idiocy. Coke had its first marketings increase in more than a decade when it introduced the idea of adding the customers’ stupid fucking lists to their cans and bottles. And the internet has been recurred by ego-stroking personality quizs and IQ tests since before we used it to pay girlfriends peeing into tube socks. We are so desperate to be told we’re special that we will expel all disbelief and critical consider to hear it. You should know that answering a few simple-minded personality interrogations does not determine you the coolest ninja turtle, and you shouldn’t trust the scores of an Iq test that you watched yourself cheat on which likewise advertises free Slavic women and four new pounds of dick girth. One of my favorite a few examples of this, and favorite things in general, is an online community announced Intertel — “An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted.” It’s very difficult to get in. You can only affiliate if you tally in the top one percent of any self-administered intelligence test and mail in a $10 lotion reward. You may have considered that this in fact checks to see whether you’re stupid enough to forward in a test with a 98 percent composition or less and nothing else. If you get accepted, you then compensate a $39 annual reward to be a part of a genius squad for people who are very specifically not. What do you get? I’m so glad you asked. For the annual reward, you get inexhaustible pity and the human rights of berth a photo and bio about your singularly unsophisticated soul. It has created an avalanche of unearned narcissism that looks like a late ‘9 0s Casper Van Dien supporter page whose webmaster travelled mysteriously missing. Image courtesy of the property of the Casper Van Dien Fan Page& Genius Community webmaster. div > OK , no, but seriously, this next epitome is a real screenshot from the Inertel( An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted) website. This is a real person who really thinks he’s in the 1 percent of intellectual nobilities, and this is his real profile. I didn’t doctor this. This is what an actual genius named BigJim3 69 remunerations $39 a year to expose. Fucking! This macrocosm is spell and you get to live in it! div > Another business that employs your adoration of yourself on a big, sprawling magnitude is the pop-up museum manufacture. The reputation implies that there are things to do or learn inside them, but they’re more like oversized photo booths than artistry halls. For speciman, if you take a junket to the zany, world-famous Museum of Ice Cream, you will memorize zero to one things about ice cream and feed ice cream worth $45 less than the entering ticket. What you will do is wait in line to make photos of yourself next to what you’d describe in any other situation as “nothing of interest.” So to be clear, we are so self-obsessed that it’s now an efficient business model to charge us money to make pictures of ourselves so we can promote you online. You didn’t fool ME, Museum of Ice Cream. But my family loved it. Five stars. div > 1 Stop Attaining It Seem Like There Are Nazis OK, so the world has just fairly stupid prejudiceds to elect Donald Trump chairman, but not all of those voters were full white supremacists. Some of them were simply extremely theological to know when someone is lying or too old to change their memory about politics. And yes, a troubling number of them were Nazis. But in a lot of ways, most things are fine and the world isn’t as unpleasant as you think. You’re welcome again. div > Impossibly shitty parties, like the Trump supporters who made that Garfield mug privately, looks a lot like they’re everywhere. A pile of that is our omission — the good beings making fun of them. They use us to amplify their articulates, like Han Solo( R.I.P .) reassuring a hallway of Stormtroopers that he’s acces more people than he actually is. Every few minutes, a website publishes a variant on the article “These Miserable Fucks Said Something Racist About A Thing And Got Annihilated By Twitter.” They’re fun and vaguely heroic, but if you read more than one, you’ll start to see that they all share the same content. It’s the same three or four prejudiced tweets quoted in each article, tweeted by the same three or four prejudiceds who “attacked” the Star Wars with the Asian girl and “staged boycotts” of the all-lady Ghostbusters . We need to stop treating these three or four beings like they’re a threat to anything other than skewing PornHub’s algorithm to favor mother-son incest. BREAKING NEWS: Regional high school’s least-likable puncture still manufacturing quite a sight out his irrelevant awfulness. div > Here’s a comforting information: A analyse of Reddit found that 1 percent of communities were responsible for 74 percent of all conflict. We are taking the intentionally insensitive notes of a Kia’s worth of debate club hobbyists and feigning they’re a tidal wave of detest “were supposed to” stand together against. The “alt-right” movement is 30 sons more cranky to year and too slow to hear Dungeons& Dragons . Their adherents are a lethal group of gamers who will disappear once they sour 17, and their media channel is a cable network whose entire audience will be dead in two more flu seasons. All these people want is for the other side to get upset, so if we stop writing thinkpieces about the rise of dapper grey patriotism and focus more on how liberals hate suicide religions, we can be rid of them almost immediately. BREAKING NEWS: C-word who are tweets C-wordy antisemitic concepts DOES! div > Ann Coulter is a good example. She’s the skeletal are still in relic antipathy, and she has about as much cultural affect as Corey Feldman’s band, Oral Thrush and the Yeast 2000 s. Has she ever done anything other than hiss bad acts at impatient Tv identities or suppose that clinical antisemitism is antisemitic slapstick? She only seems like she is a thing because 10,000 of us dunk on the bitch each time she condemns her oral thrush on the Jews. Without all of us excusing to one another how mistaken she is, Coulter would just be straying through Home Depot to see if there are any lily-white works she can ask about the lavatory refuge rails. And soon she would be spawning spider eggs in her lip while her parakeet watched their own bodies rot. “Rawk! The Jews are at it again! ” it would recite to her undiscovered body. “The Jews are at it again! “ We all seem to get how foolish it is when the story answers “teens” are doing a comically apeshit circumstance like human centipede gatherings or detergent eating. Why can’t we use those same beings psyches to figure out how one Nazi nerd looking for attention isn’t “the Right”? I know it’s tough to stand trolls, but Kim Kardashian owning all the world’s money should have taught you that there is virtue in shutting the fuck up about some things. We need to stay strong not in the battle against the “alt-right, ” but in the battle to ignore them. The next time you verify another tower about how maids won’t time republican people, leave it alone. Let those dickless Nazis prevent writing versions of that section into the empty vacancy until they discover evil campaigns brides to dry up. And the next time someone on your Facebook thread attacks their Second Amendment liberties after local schools shooting, don’t confirm their child assassination fandom with tending. Move your cursor to the left and click on their mother’s chart. Pose as Blake Shelton, acquire her moist rely, and calmly destroy that child-murderer’s family. Every one of us can shut up and make a difference. Seanbaby devised being funny on the Internet. You can follow him on Twitter, or frisk his hit mobile competition Calculords . b> Did you realise Casper van Dien was in a Tarzan movie in the 90 s ? i > b> Support Cracked’s journalism with a tour to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you . i > b> For more, check out 5 Deeply Embarrassing Thing The News Keeps Doing and 6 Time The News Went Totally Overboard Chasing A Story . i > b> You should click on this join and follow us on Facebook . i > b> Read more: http :// www.cracked.com/ blog/ 5-stupid-things-we-need-to-stop-clicking-on / http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/06/30/5-stupid-things-we-need-to-stop-clicking-on/