#the disparity is slapping us in the face y’all

[widowandthewitch]

Let’s get one thing straight. If this was a BLM protest and someone pepper sprayed a police officer there would be at minimum one dead body. If this was a protest where there were people of color fighting for their rights and not some piece of shit trump voters and conspiracy theorists there would be arrests, bodies, gas attacks, rubber bullets, people being hit with batons and cars.

But that’s not what this is. This is a bunch of entitled trump voters storming out nations capital. Think about that. A bunch of predominantly white men storming a Capitol building and actually pepper spraying cops, making it to offices, and making elected officials run for cover. And the cops haven’t dropped one body.

And before you come at me- I’m a white woman who is willing to look at this and go hmmm there’s something seriously wrong with this picture and this country if this blatant disparity is still denied by many.

Fucking shameful. Those of you who voted for him. Participated in this or look at this and see nothing wrong and don’t see the disparity need to take a look at yourself and do a think

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[countessofbiscuit]

For the ask thing: N, T, W for tcw :)

ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ

N: Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom.

An appreciation for how massive the GAR really is — even if you subscribe to the ridiculously low-balled canonical size of the army, Fives has no reason to be chummy with everyone, ffs. If Anakin and Obi-Wan weren’t attached at the hip, Rex and Cody would hardly ever lay eyes on each other because there is such a disparity in rank (which should indicate a wildly different brief, but lol, this is TCW, where a marshal commander leads from the trenches and a mere captain has a seat at the strategy table). Obviously, this is just a personal gripe: I don’t actually care how people choose to approach the GAR in their stories, this is all about having fun … *I* just have more fun reading fics that are somewhat grounded in realities.

Mating cycles/heats — idk it just seems to me that this fandom with a plethora of alien species to play with doesn’t explore reproductive diversity and weirdness enough. 

Tolerance of clonecest (or whatever the hell you wanna call it, I use that term as shorthand; whether or not clone-on-clone maps onto IRL incest taboos is an essay for another day) — it’s just … it’s interesting to me that folks are more squicked by the possibility that two identical walking war crimes may frot because they have no one else and find some small measure of comfort in each other than, idk, the brutal realities of their lives where death, mutilation, and maiming are omnipresent — and this pervasive idea that clones are the Goodest Bois just out there wearing flower crowns and frying only droids all day makes me : \ This isn’t an exhortation for people to just ‘get over’ their squicks, but I do believe in examining them. 

T: Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

Headcanon: Cody is not a born-again Mando nor does he have any time for whatever watered-down Mandalorian bullshit filtered down from the Spec Ops wing. 

Question this headcanon first sought to answer: Why doesn’t Cody wear a kama? 

Id-scratching Justification: He loves this thighs.

Plausible Justification: He likes his legs to be unencumbered for roundhouse kicks. 

Solid Justification I’ve adopted from kaasknot: He earned his advanced-recon stripes in ARF not ARC school. 

My Meta Justification: The line clones do not adopt Mandalorian culture or language wholesale. 

I can’t even qualify this with “call me a RepComm snob, but …” because there’s even LESS foundation for the clones-are-vode idea in the new canon. From where would they have imbibed it? Outside the brief nod to Fenn Rau’s pilot instructor days on Kamino, new canon has not given us any reason to believe the line clones had Mandalorian trainers. And even if you discount new canon’s Jango-is-not-a-Mandalorian heresy, Kamino would not be at pains to emphasize their products’ connection to a culture so perennially at odds with their client (the Jedi/Republic). 

Upon deployment, really almost anything goes; but to say that clone culture wouldn’t hold up pretty firm in the face of other galactic cultures is a little demeaning, and however much people absorb in their search for identity, why would the clones have immediately glomped onto Mandalorian concepts? Why not Corellian? Or Kuatian? Or Chandrillan? Or hells, even Force traditions? Someone may have pointed out to the odd clone, “hey, y’all were made in the image of a notorious Mandalorian!” and set some wheels turning, and sure, Boil was resourceful enough to do his own homework and decide that he quite liked the precepts of a certain group of Mandalorian paramilitary extremists and wanted to slap their sigil on his helmet, but there’d be such a diversity of osmotic experiences in an army of millions/billions spread out across a galaxy that I simply cannot buy the idea that the clones all woke up one fine day thinking of themselves as Mando or Mando-adjacent. 

Setting aside new canon, which I find deathly dull, I prefer RepComm, with its assertion that many of the RCs are born-again Mandos after their sergeants (indeed, the Republic almost has a fifth-columnist problem in Spec Ops with the True Mando influence of the Nulls and certain Alpha ARCs), but the average line trooper view of that mentality is “y'all are a fucking cult.” 

The line troops would identify firstly as brothers and soldiers of the Republic, and they would’ve had close to 0 touchpoints with the Prime Clone. In fact, many might resent the connection, especially deeper into deployment (“What has Mandalore ever done for me? They're a bunch of loose cannons — if they aren't refusing to lend a hand, they're actively leading Sep militias for pay. Fuck the lot of them,” etc. etc.). It would have required a shitton of cultural and linguistic leakage from the Spec Ops wing for the bulk of the line troopers to know even more than a handful of words in Mando’a at the time of Geonosis. (I can believe swear words would’ve been adopted hella fast, if only to fill a vacuum.)

But again, the army is not a monolith, and I am fully on board with the idea that some Alpha ARCs made it their mission to teach Vode An to every unit they came across and the sheer epicness made it wildly popular, and that they spread certain words and concepts (vod, shebs, di’kut, Manda, oya, kara, kandosii, etc.) like a rash. Or a company or two got teamed with a Mando sergeant and two squads of RCs for a month and were belting out “Coruscant'a aden mhi” by the end of it. Or a division found itself with an Alpha-ARC XO when their Jedi General's CC got popped two weeks after Geonosis and Alpha-89 wouldn’t rest until every trooper knew Dha Werda Verda by heart and backwards. Just … show me the work — why should I accept that Bly speaks fluent Mando’a in the bedroom? WHY? Invest me in your clone-culture worldbuilding!

ANYWAY, to bring this back round to my die-on-this-hill headcanon about Cody … he doesn’t like kamas or feel compelled to wear one. Setting aside fun Cody-was-an-Alpha-trained-spec-ops-intern-for-a-month-and-hated-it backstories aside, I just don’t think the dude had the time of day for all that the Manda are watching us warrior brethren, hold your buy’ce high vode, one tribe one dream osik. His identity is wrapped up in overseeing the Third Army and serving as General Kenobi’s right-hand man; on balance (if we’re trying to be realistic, see: above), Cody interacts more with natborn officers and Jedi and fellow CCs than your average ground pounder trooper, and Obi-Wan and Republic officers certainly aren’t going to wax lyrical about Mandalore anytime soon. Obviously, Marshal Fucking Commander Cody is well within his rights to read whatever he wants and talk to whomever he wants and adopt whatever beliefs and language he wants. He has all the resources at this fingertips and clearance that would probably make a lot of natborn admins in REPINT weep. But I don’t personally see him going Mando, though it amuses him to watch Rex try :p The minute Cody earnestly starts using Mando’a in a fic, I’m usually out.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Hmm. I spent a good hour’s walk thinking about this and came up blank. Hate is a strong word anyway, and if it’s well-written, I can be sold on anything. But, I can almost guarantee I will never click on ABO unless it’s been recc’d or written by a friend. Not because I have any moral objection, just that it doesn’t interest me and good characterization is often lost to the mandatory ABO dynamics.

… on the flip side, I will ALWAYS click on Fuck-or-Die :D

[legionofpotatoes]

Okay then, since both of y’all are just delving in I’ll try to keep things (relatively) spoiler-free and stick to story sense and semiotics! Few caveats:

Have not had prior experience with Kojima’s body of work and if that’s a prerequisite in how I “should feel” about it then yike on a bike (just getting this out of the way based on what I’ve had talked at me)

My read excludes the entire context of moment-to-moment gameplay; I basically watched chronological story cutscenes stitched together with NPC interaction vignettes sprinkled in-between. 9 or so hours in total. 

I did this because the gameplay does not interest me at all - and not in protest of chill social games (I adore both No Man’s Sky and thatgamecompany stuff, for example, and try to champion anything without Gun in it), but because the setting and length did not align with my expectations for something to invest so much time into. Still, I was super intrigued by the story, and, to a lesser extent, the plot.

also I have a hard time writing in condensed English, so this may run quite long. I’ll put the rest under a break. Second language, sorry!

I’m trying to think of a good way to start this. Like I said, the story, or what the thing was ABOUT, was infinitely more interesting to me than whatever wacko packaging Kojima thought up for the narrative. Which was a complicated, thought-out piece of fiction shattered into many disparate pieces and fed to us in a mystery-box-filmmaker kind of way, making us reverse-engineer what essentially was a rather simple interpersonal uhh. family tragedy, I guess. 

But to its credit the lore is visibly built solely to support whatever thematic messaging Kojima would want to weave in there - something I can respect. Meaning it gets as wacky and as nonsensical as it needs to be in order to reflect the high-concept allegories at play, aaand then it does so to a fault. I adore works of fiction that don’t give a shit about “tone” - I hate that word more than anything in modern media - but effective symbolism in storytelling, IN MY OPINION, requires a deft hand, nuance, strong authorial position, and a good grasp of social context. 

I want to like, go through these four points individually and nitpick my problems with the game in their lens, because I think they cover pretty much everything I feel like saying:

1. A deft hand - to me means to selectively dramatize correct themes and plot points as you go so that shit makes sense in the end. I felt this was incredibly lacking here. It was like a symphony going for hours without a crescendo. The absolute wrong bits of soulless exposition would be reiterated THRICE within a single cutscene while necessary context of, hell, character motives or even plot geography would be left vague. Intentionally vague, some would argue, but their later function would never arrive. Other times, what would visibly be conceived as wink-and-you’ll-miss-it foreshadowing could overstay its welcome to the point of inadvertently spoiling a later plot point. My girlfriend sniped the (arguably) most important reveal of the game, which is left for the tail end of the final epilogue (!), in the first hours of watching. The symbolics and allusions were just too plentiful where they should have been more subdued. I am DYING to provide examples here but I’m keeping it spoiler-free. Again, if this is a Kojima-ism, too bad; but it’s not a catastrophic failure of storytelling by any means. There are very few masters of this thing working today. But what can be easier to navigate, I think, is...

2. Nuance - this kinda goes hand-in-hand with the upper point but is a bit more important to me and applies to what SPECIFICALLY you decide to heighten in order to slap us across the face with your deeper meanings. Certain characters - not all of them - feel like caricatures. The silly names and overt metaphors (wearing a mask means hiding something! connected cities all have ‘knot’ in their name!) are honestly, genuinely FINE as long as their function isn’t betrayed, but the lean into metaphor worship can sometimes wade into SERIOUSLY shitty territory as contemporary implications are ignored altogether, and that ties into my fourth point, which I’ll address before looping back to the third; needless to say, approaching sensitive subjects with broad strokes is not exactly the way to go. But broad strokes is almost exclusively what this game does, forgetting to incorporate...

3. Social context - and I feel like avoiding examples here will be difficult lest I end up sounding like a dogmatic asshole; but there is a right thing and a wrong thing to do when co-opting IRL concepts to fit fictional messaging/storytelling. I feel that a character “curing” themselves of a phobia by experiencing emotional growth that vaguely corresponds to what the disorder could have symbolized is a wrong thing. And I don’t even want to get into all the wacky revisionism the lore ended up twisting into, which was mostly honestly entertaining (the ammonite will be a good hint to those who’ve played it), until it decided to, again, lean a bit too hard into painting today’s reality as a crisis of human connection and imply some questionable things about why, uh, asexual people exist, for example. Yes it makes some sense within the context of the lore and what’s happening in the plot, but it’s completely lacking in social know-how of the here and now. In other words: a Bad Look. To me, this type of wayward ignorance is a much more serious issue that can historically snowball any piece of writing into a witless disaster. I don’t know if it quite does it here, but it’s not really my place to say. Still, you can have wacky worldbuilding that has no sense of dramatic tension, nuance, or awareness towards the audience, and yet containing one last vital glue holding it all together, and that would be...

4. Strong authorial position - or intent I guess, to speak in literary terms - and I still have trouble pinpointing how and where this exists in this game. A bullshit stance you say, and I hear ya; cause this here is a video game very pronounced in its pro-human-connection messaging, painting the opposite outcome as an apocalyptic end to our species. And as I understand the gameplay is all about connections too - leaning into that theme so hard it even renders itself unapproachable to most capital-g Gamers. I honestly respect the balls of that. But really, as an author who headlined the creation of this thing, what was it really about? What were you trying to say?

And beyond “human connection is real important to beat apathy” I got nothing, and I think that’s because of points 1 and 2 failing in succession, and then point 3 souring the taste. It just had to be apparent the moment the curtain fell, is what I find. You just have to “get” it immediately, get what it was trying to say, but that will happen only if it’s been articulated incredibly well up to that point. Maybe the entire punch of that message REALLY depends on you spending dozens of hours ruminating on the crushing cost of loneliness as you haul cargo across countries on foot and connect people to your weird not-internet? If so, I’ve missed a vital piece of context, and with this being a videogame and all, it’s honestly a fair assumption. But otherwise.. it felt like a hell of a lot of twisting and turning and plot affectations that only led to more plot affectations and sometimes character growth (which had its own bag of issues from point 3) and not a hell of a lot to say about human connection beyond the fact that it is. good and useful. It felt like a repeated statement instead of being an argument. Does that make sense? I understand the story optics here are zoomed waay out and set on targeting the human condition as a whole, but like.. if you’re committing to a message, you have to stand by it.

Why is connection good? it’s a dumb question without a DOUBT but since the game has set out to answer it then it.. should? Did I miss the answer? I may have, I honestly can’t exclude the possibility. My lens was warped and my framework of consuming storytelling is a bit rigid in its requirements (the four points I mentioned), so maybe I’m just too grouchy and old to understand. 

I just think Pacific Rim did it better and took about 7 hours less to do it! And yet, it, too, involved Guillermo Del Toro. Curious.

If you made it this far and are interested in my thoughts on the technical execution of it all as well, uhm, it’s pretty much spotless? Decima is utilized beautifully, the Hideo vanity squad of celebrities all do their very best with the often clunky dialogue, the music is great, the aesthetic and visual design is immediately arresting, and it certainly does an all-around great job at standing out from the rest of the flock. I fell in love with the BB a little bit. It is also a game that is incredibly horny for Mads Mikkelsen, which almost fully supplants the expected real estate for run-of-the-mill male gaze bullshit. It is. A change.

That’s all I got folks

[artsychica2012]

(via The NegusWhoRead Definitive List Of People Not Invited To The Cookout | NegusWhoRead)

As July 4th rolls around (Not Independence Day, because we celebrate that on Juneteenth) Black America once again engages in the time-honored cultural tradition that requires disparate groups come together as one to work toward a common goal–eating like hell. Cookouts are like fingerprints–everyone has them, each one is different and if they are in the wrong place, you can get in a lot of trouble.

After the landmark Caucasian Guide To Black Barbecues, NegusWhoRead became the definitive source for cookouts. As such, we have been tapped by the global cookout community to provide a list of people who are excluded from this year’s festivities, so we present the 2017 NegusWhoRead list of people not invited to the cookout.

Rachel N’Becki Mutombo Shaka Zooloo Afeni Dolezal – Aunt Phyllis always said “there’s something funny about that girl. She never claps on beat and she her chicken salad always needs a little more seasoning.” I don’t know who invited her in the first place. I think she just showed up one year and kept coming. After one of the kids last year said: “I only have to do two things: stay black and die!” I heard Trans-Rachel say, “Well, actually…” and realized that we could no longer allow Becky Badass to keep Columbus-ing our cookouts.

Or our culture.

Empty-Handers – According to the new rules of the CCBA (The Cookout Collective Bargaining Agreement) if you are over 21 years old and you show up at the cookout without bringing anything, you are automatically subject to a 3-year suspension. I know we all go through economic struggles, but you can go to the Piggly Wiggly and get 1,204 cans of NuGrape for like $1.28, so please don’t play the poor-mouth card.

In fact, the new CCBA is pretty definitive on this–for every $10 you spend on your cookout outfit, you must spend at least $1 on cookout items. If you show up wearing the new Yeezy boosts, but can’t afford a pack of aluminum foil or a bag of ice, then you must not care about the economic empowerment of your community.

Steve Harvey – I’ve been trying to warn the international cookout community about this negro ever since he bamboozled the masses into buying that elementary-school intelligence, “self-help” misogyny coloring book called Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man, but no one would listen to me. Just because he stole one of the Whispers’ mustache and outfitted deacons across America in Easter suits doesn’t mean he deserved any of my Aunt Marvell’s potato salad. But ever since he told a Flint, Michigan resident to “Enjoy your nice brown glass of water” only months after hooking up with President Trump to give his professional advice as the least funniest King of Comedy on how to fix the inner city, and a few weeks after writing a memo telling his staff to never look him in the eyes or show the whites of their teeth in his presence,  we saw Steve Harvey’s true colors. It’s not that we hate Steve Harvey, it’s just that our cousin Quan is coming down from Flint, and I don’t want him to slap the shit out of Steve sending mustache hairs flying everywhere.

Some of them might land in the potato salad.

Drop Off-ers – Listen, Nikki; Every year, you come by the cookout, grab you a plate, drop your bad-ass kids off and leave without telling anyone. You know your children are–let’s just say “very energetic”–and they won’t listen to anyone. Two years ago you got mad at Uncle Junior because he beat SharGregory’s behind for throwing firecrackers on the grill. I admit that shit was kinda funny, but her little stunt ruined three whole racks of ribs! And you know Junior has PTSD! He started calling for his drill sergeant and pulled out his knife and almost cut your son! I will also admit that I was impressed that Matthewina knew the entire routine to Beyoncé’s “Formation” at the Labor Day cookout, but whenever anyone tried to correct her behavior, we grew tired of her screaming, “Leave me alone! You ain’t my daddy!”

When I got a little frustrated, I pulled her aside and asked her who her daddy was, and she replied, “I don’t know. I just know it ain’t you!”

White women – Although we will make an exception for Rachel Maddow and Teena Marie (wait… she died? When? Ain’t nobody told me nothing!) you have played us for the last time. We thought y’all were cool with us, but then you smiled in our faces and went behind our backs and voted for that citrus-skinned, rooster-headed doofus for President. Then you tried to double back and get us to don pink pussy hats and march with y’all after looking down your noses and sat out the entire Black Lives Matter movement. It’s not that we don’t like you, it’s that you always want to use feminism as a tool to separate yourselves out from white men when we speak of our plight while enjoying the benefits of your whiteness. You participated in every form of white supremacy this country has ever known–slavery, Jim Crow, lynchings… Now you heaux wanna show up with a Tupperware container of kale shish-ka-bobs talmbout “resist.” Man, we don’t fuck with y’all like that anymore! You better get the fuck from around our grill before we call the poli–

Nah, strike that. We’ll just end up getting shot.

Reneggers – No, I’m not talking about the n-word. I’m talking about the people who renege during the spades game. Whether by accident or through nefarious cheating, we are tired of having to break up fights at the card table every year because you cut puppytoes and then tried to slide in a six of clubs towards the end of the hand. Every time you cause a melee things get out of hand, so we have come up with a solution: A Spades referee.

From now on, Uncle Junior will settle all disputes regarding spades games, dominos, Uno, Red Light/Green Light, checkers and rock/paper/scissors. If you disagree with any of his rulings you can always appeal…

…to Uncle Junior’s knife.

Omarosa Manigault – Don’t think we have forgotten that you are sitting in every Trump meeting and press conference not speaking up for us. Don’t come through here this year thinking you are going to get you a plate, because some of our cousins might jump on you and beat you like you stole something.

…or even worse, beat you like you reneged.

Sage Steele – Wait… We already said “white women.”

Plate Rule-breakers – At cookouts in Black America, we abide by the parliamentary plate procedural policies outlined in Robert’s Rules of Cookout Order. While I won’t go over all of them right here, there are a few rule changes for this year that you must familiarize yourself with in order to attend:

The international sanctioning body has reduced the number of to-go plates any attendee is allowed to fix to one. Uno. That’s it. The only exception is for people who paid or bought something for the cookout, but had to miss because of work or sickness. You must bring a doctor’s or work excuse and the committee will review it to see if it stands.

One scoop. That’s it. I know you want some more of Aunt Marvell’s potato salad, but you better pile it up in that one spoonful like you’re digging a grave.

No to-go plate shall be fixed until everyone in attendance has eaten. If I see you fixing your plate beforehand, it is legal for me to grab a rib off of it.

Everyone under the age of 9 can only eat hamburgers and hot dogs. We know that old trick of putting extra ribs and macaroni on a plate and acting as if your kid is gonna eat it. We know that’s for you! Don’t make me call Uncle Junior… or his knife

That’s it. Those are the people we have chosen to exclude from this year’s cookout.

However, this doesn’t mean that everyone else is invited. Instead, we have seen the need to protect Black America’s most sacred tradition before wypipo do it like Kenny G did jazz, Macklemore did hip hop, or America did… well… everything.  As you embark on this 4th of July, remember to bask in the beautiful tradition of your beautiful people and never forget that British soldiers policing the colonies, killing a black man is what started the process that birthed America and 241 years later, they still haven’t solved that problem.

So when you’re at the cookout kicking out Beckies, remember, it’s the 4th of July. Until they fix that…

Ain’t no Independence Day, bih!