#this is going to the no. 1 tags for SURE

[abstractfrog]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[introspectivememories]

was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-

[reveluving]

Maybe in another universe you would've let him fuck you in his pitch black £100k Mercedes with your legs on his shoulders.

BUBU. Oh, I am going to make it through the week, no, the MONTH FOR SURE. Y’know how you take a good whiff of a freshly baked cookie upon opening it?

Yeah, that's basically how I felt from seeing this even before I clicked read more?? The way my body slowly woke up the more I read it. Like Rick I'm sorry but FAWK, I LOVE-HATE THIS MAN, SOMEBODY SEDATE ME PLEASE.

My God, Bubu, you just know when to surprise a lady 😭❤️❤️

million dollar man

ooc negan smith x afab reader (organised crime au)

suggestive (mdni please or i'll eat you)

1.8k words

no apocalypse, no walkers, haven't watched TWD yet, all I know is from fanfics so OOC Negan <3

tags: sorry for any mistakes, i was too excited to write + share this. no warnings or tw needed + mention of alcohol consumption. also worth to mention that the only driving force into me writing this is my thirst and hunger for this fictional character. I dream every day of sucking him dry and making a seat out of his lap.

a small gift for my bae @reveluving <3

You came to Negan's empire to purchase weapons and materials for a mission. It was meant to be a quick trip with the leader of your small team, Rick. He was carrying a duffel bag filled to the brim with bills while you only carried a piece of paper - a list - in your hand.

Getting inside the million-dollar villa took multiple security checks and your phones being confiscated along with any weapons you had on your person. It took a long time to follow one of the henchmen through multiple corridors and ridiculously massive stairs, to some sort of office. It was empty, and the two of you had to sit and wait in silence. Rick, placed the duffel on the floor as he sat with his back straight, looking at the office, scanning the collection of books and random objects. The place was spotless, the floor and windows shining.

You on the other hand started tapping your fingertips on your naked thighs, staring at your shoes and the clean floors. You really wanted to get back to your place so you can continue planning the mission. These trips were not your favourites, you were only here because Rick found your presence useful. He said once that he trusts you, not like he trusts his other guys any less, but that he found your presence calming. You were really good at reading people's moods and feelings, you also had good social skills. You spoke multiple languages, which is really helpful in this line of work. Rick has struggled many times in communicating with random crime gangs because of their heavy accent, or just because the leader refused to speak English and decided to only speak through an interpreter.

You were also quick on your feet and pretty, that, Rick found, helps too.

That's why you were wearing a tiny black dress, neck and legs exposed to the clean air of the office. Over it, you had on a black leather jacket with a pair of black boots. It wasn't much but it was enough. You also never really resented Rick for using your appearance to his advantage in these sort of meetings and arms purchases. It was purely business and you understand the benefit of using human nature against your enemies.

The door opened behind you two, and none of you looked back but simply stood up to greet today's seller. Rick stuck his hand out when the seller made his way to the desk and you lifted your head to see who you had to deal with it when you froze.

You really didn't mean to freeze like that, eyes wide and feeling your body already heating up in embarrassment. It was stupid, the dumbest thing in the world. Out of all assholes in the world, it had to be this one.

Negan's lips slowly formed a smirk as he brought one hand to run through his greying beard, "Huh,"

Rick's hand was still in the air, Negan gave him one glance, raising a brow then down at his hand, turning around and making his way to his desk, leaving Rick hanging.

You glanced at Rick and saw how he glared at the man before he sat back down, wiping his hand on his jeans. You sat back down, pulling down at your dress to cover another centimetre of skin of your thighs.

Negan made a show of sitting down in his seat, unbuttoning his suit jacket and waving his finger and a henchman came over with a bottle of golden liquid and glass. You couldn't tell what it was, but knew it must be expensive.

"You drink?" Negan lifted his eyes while pouring himself a glass.

You were about to answer when he grinned, "I know you don't. I'm asking him."

Rick whipped his head to look at you, then back at Negan, "No."

"Hm, what's your name anyway? First time buying from us?" Negan asked after taking a sip.

"Ri-" "I actually don't care, show me the money and I'll see what that can get you." Negan said and you didn't know whether to burst out laughing or scream in embarrassment or horror. It was awfully hard to focus when the object of many inappropriate daydreams was right in front of you. Especially since this was the first time you're seeing him under natural sunlight rather than artificial neon colours.

Rick hates being disrespected, and you could tell he was fuming even when he was wearing a poker face. So you leaned down and grabbed the duffel, a henchman appeared next to you, you glanced at Negan and handed the man the bag. "Everything we need is here." You said, holding the piece of paper up. Negan nodded at the man, who took the piece of paper from your hands and left.

As soon as you sat down Negan got up, slowly walking around his desk and standing in front of you two, crossing his arms and leaning back against the desk, "How's work?" He asked, pinning you under his heavy gaze.

"I don't work there anymore." You quickly say, tucking your hands between your thighs, feeling a little uncomfortable, not necessarily because of Negan, but because Rick didn't know you two knew each other and would definitely have some questions when you leave.

"Hm, shame, you were phenomenal at it." He hums, shamelessly dragging his eyes down your body, stopping at where you tucked your hands between your naked thighs.

Rick looks bewildered and a bit disgusted as he looks at you and Negan, "You knew each other." He stated. Not questioned, stated, because it was without a doubt 100% true.

"He was a regular at my old job." You say noting the way Negan's big veiny hands hold the edge of the desk a little tighter and his eyes get that look he gets when he's tipsy and feels good, or in this case, horny.

"Wrong, baby. I was your regular."

What the fuck.

An onslaught of memories come rushing back from your time working at the strip club, it was just meant to be a temporary job, to hide in plain sight, but ended up lasting longer than you bargained for when Negan - you didn't know he was Negan back then, he never gave you his name - randomly came in and captured your attention and gave you a lot of money.

The phantom memories of his rough yet gentle hands on your skin made you shiver. You still remember how he smelled like, you remember the feel of his hair between your fingers and remember the rumble of his voice against your back and his warm breath on your neck. You also remember the coolness of his silver rings on your flesh, and the weight of his arms around your shoulders, but also how ridiculously tall and big he was, everywhere. Well, probably, you never saw him naked, it was a boundary that you never ever crossed. It was also the club's rules anyway. You were a dancer, not a sex worker. Maybe in another universe you would've let him fuck you in his pitch black £100k Mercedes with your legs on his shoulders.

"I need a drink." Your mouth says before you can even register it, and you realise your hand is around your neck, thirsty. Shit.

You snatch your hand away from your neck, Rick will definitely have a lot to say when you leave, you were being so unprofessional. Well, as much as a criminal about to purchase materials to kidnap the daughter of an oil tycoon for £50 million.

Negan chuckles and another one of his henchmen appears next to you out of thin air, seriously how do they move without making any noises-

You were about to give up keeping composure and scream when it wasn't one of his random henchmen but his fucking driver- What was his name again? Dylan? Daniel?

"Thank you, Daryl."

Oh yeah.

And Daryl was the one who accompanied every time Negan had time to come to the club, he never really spoke, just sat down and watched. It was unnerving at times, how you would be perched on Negan's lap like a pretty bird, thumbing at his tie while his hands are running up and down your legs, snapping the band of your teeny tiny shorts, making you squeal mid-sentence, just to chuckle and place a warm kiss to your neck or shoulder, his stumble pricking your skin in a way that made you shiver.

And in his hands was a fucking Five Guys milkshakes, the sticker on it listing your usual order. The one you mindlessly mentioned ONCE to Negan while he tried to convince you that Fast Food was shit and your body deserved to eat healthy, in the middle of a lap dance you were giving him.

You don't even know how the fuck he managed to do that because she's sure as shit there was no Five Guys on their way to his place.

"Did I get it right?" Negan smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your breath came out shakily as you took the milkshake from Daryl, not meeting his eyes and grabbing the straw with your other hand, lips engulfing the paper straw and sucking. Yeah, fuck him.

Fuck him and fuck his money. Fuck his charming smile, big hands, and perfect memory and fuck his eyes and his mouth and his tongue and his stupid stupid stupid face!

You didn't say anything as you practically tried to inhale the milkshake, not meeting poor Rick's eyes. Negan clapped once and laughed, throwing his head back, amused and highly entertained.

In that moment one of his henchmen came in and said, "The order has been paid and packed."

Rick slapped in his thighs in dad fashion and stood up, ready to leave when Negan said, "Where do you think you're going?"

Rick frowned, "You got your money and we got what we came in for."

A mean grin spread across Negan's face, "No, no, buddy. We're not done yet."

"What else do you want?"

Negan ran his tongue on the top row of his teeth, "I'm only selling if you agree to come back and let me know how your little mission went." He glanced at you then back at Rick, "I want to see how good you are at your job, I might use your services in the future."

"Okay?.." Rick shrugged.

"Only if she's the one who comes back, alone, and in one piece, we got a deal?"

You eyes widen at his words and look at Rick, who's already looking at you. He looks pained and very annoyed, so you put the milkshake down on the coffee table and one of his hands, squeezing once, "It's okay, I can do it."

"Are you sure?" He genuinely looks worried and you nod, "He's not a monster."

Rick sighs and meets Negan's eyes, "Fine."

[mftm1987]

for your consideration

[sevenines]

i saw this tweet and found it interesting for two reasons. one is that some people base how good cartoon network would be to toh by how it treated su, and despite the fact that su’s treatment by the network was considered poor at the time, now its thought to be exceptionally good in comparison to modern shows.

two is how exactly su got impacted by a limited budget. a common criticism is how characters like connie, peridot, and lapis are left out of missions. but balancing a lot of characters is not only hard but also costly (extra animation, extra voices—it’s been revealed that the show is limited to a set number of characters per episode otherwise they’re over budget). animation mistakes are not uncommon since retakes cost extra. the entire reason the original show got cut short was due to loss of funding!

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]

[k1tty5]

go my minions… kiss…

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

WWX gets up to no good

[First] Prev <--> Next

[fallstaticexit]

She did not appreciate that. But it was for the plot I- ...

[kusanagihaku]

niche content but tier list of ghouls as clinicians (any patient-facing healthcare role)

sorry yuri but you'd fail viva

[brofightiscancelled]

(taking a really long drag off a cigarette) i know the joke is that osomatsu at 18 is the exact same as osomatsu current but didnt he seem angrier to you. just in general. i cannot imagine how teenage angst would hit you if you were also a sextuplet

like he was probably as carefree and stupid as usual with literally everyone else to be fair. but w his brothers it's like ough. i wonder if the "getting sick of the sextuplet schtick" hit him the hardest in HS. he's the only one who isnt visibly annoyed in the sleeping scene but he's also the one saying "why are there six of us?"

i thibk osomatsu has genuine qualms w being a sextuplet. we see him complain abt it to chibita in episode 2. i dont think they were totally unfounded or made up on the spot, that's stuff he was holding deep in his core

and i think esp in an environment like high school, and w being such an egotistical brat, oso wouldve started resenting not having his own identity just like the others. i imagine he wouldve channeled his clingy brattiness into being a nuisance to all of his peers. it's just that now, in adulthood, he literally doesnt have anyone else in his life, so his brattiness has fallen back onto his brothers.

ironic to how he is now, i think the "why are you asking me? that's your problem" response to totty comes from resenting the sextuplet status quo they'd established as kids of them expecting him to know what to do and expecting to follow his lead and having eldest brother expectations of him forever and ever. why do you assume we're going to be together forever? don't you know i'm going to make it out on my own in the real world?

it's interesting it was between totty and oso cuz it seemed like hs totty wanted things to stay the way they were the most. regressing and acting even more kid like. so to me oso saying that to totty specifically is a like "why are you expecting things to stay the way they were forever?" kind of thing

i feel like (inhaling more smoke) it's kind of like the fight at their grad ceremony kind of unlocked those revelations for them. we've just had the worst fight of our lives but at the end of the day we all have to take the same route home to all sleep in the same futon. we're going to be brothers no matter what. for better or for worse we're shackled sextuplets forever and ever.

Everything just kinda clicks because even though he hates it, they're stuck together. And he doesn't have any idea on what he's gonna do, he knows Totty doesn't know what to do, and it's probably easy for him to guess that the rest of them don't know what to do either. They're stuck together and none of them have a plan for the future besides that. i think oso was coasting by on this idea that "everything would work out somehow" (very oso-like) and this is the wakeup call that no, if left unattended, this is how your problems will fester

i also really often think about 18oso's reaction to finding out they're neets in the future. yes this is funny yes this is deeply sad but i also remember being really taken aback by it when i first saw it

like obviously after you think about it for 1.5 seconds like, yes, obviously oso didn't realize at age 18 that he was going to be a jobless bum well into his 20s. being a jobless bum wasn't what he had envisioned for his life. but juxtaposed with how carefree current osomatsu is with his life it really is funny to realize like oh, yeah, there was a point in time, most of their life really, where they thought they'd be something when they were adults

i think oso had always wanted his own identity like any other teen, but now that the only people left in his life as an adult are his brothers he's just clinging to his identity as niichan. but maybe this is the smoke inhalation talking

i think if oso had any other friends than his twins he would not be this annoying. but he doesn't

[yesokayiknow]

unit and torchwood (and the bannerman road gang) both absolutely kept tabs on donna but since unit's official policy re: the remaining member of torchwood three is 'do not engage under any circumstances this woman will kick your arse and we literally cannot afford that' gwen has no idea what's happened until she goes on her biannual is donna still alive trip to find donna and fourteen arguing about which dresser to buy in ikea and is like hey what the fuck

[st4rstudent]

Various other one-sided swap doodles inspired by oomfs comments

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Hiii everyone, say, how do your Hawkes go go about sharing their estate? If they do it at all? Is everyone free to come and go or are they more private? Or do they only invite their LI to stay? I'm curious!! :)

[jacksprostate]

Treatise on why No, the doctor just giving the narrator of Fight Club (full name) his requested sleep medication or sending him to therapy would not have Fixed Him

Firstly, saying giving him the insomnia meds would’ve fixed him ignores the reason he has insomnia in the first place. He is so deeply upset by his place in society that he literally cannot sleep. Drugging him to sleep would not change that. That, of course, is the easy, quick response.

But with regard to therapy? The biggest flaw is that it ignores a central tenet of the book. Part of what tortures the narrator and drives him to invent Tyler is that his feelings about this collective, systemic issue are constantly reduced to a Just Him thing. His seatmates ask what his company is. He’s the only one upset at the office. He gets weird looks if he says the truth of what he does. People will do anything in their power to pretend he is the issue, as an individual, because it is far scarier to consider the full implications of the systemic issues implied by what he is saying. Everyone treats it as if the issue is him, so he goes insane. He does anything to get someone to say, holy shit, that’s fucked up, what you’re a part of is wrong. In an attempt to feel any sort of vague sympathy and catharsis, he goes to support groups to pretend to be dying, because then at least people don’t habitually blame him for his anguish. 

Saying therapy would fix him ignores that his problems are not individual. They are collective. It’s the reason the entire story resonates with people! Something deeply, unignorably wrong with society, where people would rather blame you for bringing it up than try and address it, because it feels impossible. I don’t blame people for this, really, because it IS scary. It’s terrifying to sit and feel like you’ve realized there’s something deeply, deeply wrong, but if you say something, people will get mad at you since it’s so baked into everything around you. Or, even if they agree, it’s easier to deal with the dissonance by pretending it’s individual.

And it’s not like that’s not the purpose therapy and medications largely serve, anyway. Getting into dangerous territory for this website, but ultimately, the reason the narrator was seeking medication was because it’s a bandaid. A very numbing bandaid. For these very large, dissonance causing problems, therapy does very little. Medications do what they always have, and distract you with numbness or side effects. It’s a false solution. He is seeking an individualized false solution because he has been browbeaten with the idea that this is an issue with him alone, when it's plainly clear it's not. 

Don't get me wrong. Obviously he has something wrong with him. But it's a product of his situation. It is a fictional exaggeration of a very real occurrence of mental illness provoked by deep unconscionable dissonance and anguish.  There is a clear correlation between what happens and his mental state and his job and how isolated he is. 

The thing is, even if he were chemically numbed, I do think he would’ve lost it regardless. Many people on meds find they don’t fix things. For reasons I’ll get into, but in this case because even if numbed or distracted, once you’ve learned about deep, far reaching corruption in society, it’s very hard to forget. Especially if, in his case, you literally serve as the acting hand of this particular variety. He’s crawling up the walls. 

So why do people say this?  Well, it's funny I guess. Maybe the first time or whatever. But also, often, they believe it, to a degree. Maybe they've just been told how effective therapy and meds are for mental illness, they believe wholeheartedly in The Disease Model of Mental Illness, maybe they themselves have engaged with either and have considered it successful. Maybe they or someone they know has been 'saved' by such treatments. 

But in all honesty.... What therapy can help with is mentality, it's how you approach problems. For issues on a smaller scale, not meaning they are easier to deal with my any degree, but ones that are not raw and direct from deep awareness of corruption; these are things that can be worked through if you get lucky and get an actually good therapist who helps build up your resiliency. But when your issue is concrete, something large and inescapable? It's useless. At best it can help you develop coping mechanisms, but there is a limit for that. There is a point where that fails. To develop the ability to handle something like this requires intense development of a comfort with ambiguity and dissonance and being isolated and a firm positioning of your purpose and values and and belief in wonder and all the other shit I ramble about. The things that the narrator lacks, which lead him to taking an ineffectual death knell anarchist self-destruction path. Therapy, where the narrator is, full of the knowledge of braces melted to seats and all the people that have to allow this to happen? It fails. 

And meds — meds are a fucking scam. We know the working mechanism of basically none of them, the serotonin receptor model was made up and paid its way into prominence. We have very little evidence they're any better than placebo, and they come with genuinely horrific side effects. Maybe you got lucky. I did, on some meds. On others? I don't remember 2018. The pharmaceutical industry is also known for rampant medical ghostwriting, and for creating 'off-label' uses for drugs that have gained too many protests in their original use, then creating a cult of use to then have 'grassroots' campaigns for it to be made a label use (ie, legitimize their ghostwritten articles with guided anecdotes). 

The DSM itself is basically a marketing segregation plot. It's an attempt to legitimize the disease model by isolating subgroups of symptoms to propose individualized treatments for subgroups that are not necessarily all that separate. But if the groups exist, you can prescribe more and different medications, no? Not to mention, if you use the disease model, you can propose that these diseases are permanent, or permanent until treated, considered more and more severe to offset and justify the horrific side effects of the medications. Do you know why male birth control doesn't really exist? Same reason. They can justify all the horrible side effects for women, because the other option is pregnancy. For men, it's nothing. 

And they're not bothering to invent new drugs without side effects. When they invent new drugs it's just because the last one got too bad of a name, or they can enter a new market. Modern drugs don't work any better than gen1 drugs. They still have horrific side effects. At best, the industry will shit out studies saying the old one was flawed (truth) so they can say this new gen will be better (lie). They're doing it with ssris right now. 

Fundamentally, the single proposed benefit of any of these drugs is that they numb you. To whatever is torturing you. It's harder to be depressed if you can't feel it, or if you just can't muster the same outrage. Of course, there is people who find that numbness to be helpful, or worth it. But often, it's stasis. For the people who have problems that can be worked on, it serves as a stopgap to not actually work on said problems. The natural outcome of the disease model is stagnation for those whose need is to develop skills and resiliency. It keeps them medicalized and dependent on the idea that they're diseased and incapable. Profitable. Stuck in the womb. 

I’ve been there. It’s easier, to wallow, and resist growth because it’s difficult and painful and unfair and cruel and you can think of five billion reasons to justify your languishing. But don’t listen to anyone who tells you you’re just permanently damaged, no matter how nicely they word it, no identity or novel pathologization, no matter how many benefits they promise, especially if they swear up and down some lovely expensive medications with little solid backing and plentiful off-label usage and side effects that’ll kill you. Some days it feels like they want us all stuck in pods, agoraphobic and addicted to the ads they feed us to isolate the markets for the drugs they’ve trained us to beg them to pump us with. Polarization making it as easy as flashing blue light for go, red like for stop, or vice versa. I worry about the kids, for fucks sake. That’s a bit dark and intense, and I apologize. But I want you (generic) to understand, there is a profit motive. Behind everything. And they do not mean well. They do not care about your mental health or your rights or your personhood or your growth. They care about how they can profit off of you.

For those struggling with immovable, society problems, like the narrator grappling with how his job fits into and is accepted by society while his rejection and horror in the face of it does not, it can work about as well as any other drug addiction. Your mileage may vary. From what I've seen, recovering from being on prozac for a long time can be worse than alcohol. They put kids on this shit. They keep campaigning for more. Off label, again. A pharmaceutical company’s favorite thing to do has to be to spread rumors of someone who knows someone who said an off label use of this drug helps with this little understood condition. Or, in the case of mental illness, questionably defined condition. And like, damn, I know I'm posting on the 'medicalization is my identity' website so no one will like all this and has probably stopped reading by now, but yall should be exposed to at least one person who doubts this stuff. Doesn't just trust it. Because I mean, that's the thing right?

It's so big. What would it mean, for this all to be true? Yeah, everyone says pharmaceutical companies are evil and predatory and ghostwriting, but to think about what that really entails. Coming back to the book, everyone knows the car lobby is huge and puts dangerous vehicles through that kill people. What does it mean if the car companies all hire people to calculate the cost of a recall and the cost of lawsuits? No one wants to think about the scale that means for people allowing it or the systems that have to be geared towards money, not safety like they say. Hell, even Chuck misses the beat and has the narrator threaten his boss with the Department of Transportation. And shit, man, if every company is doing this, you think Transportation doesn't know? That they give a fuck? You're better off mailing all the evidence to the news outlets and hoping they only character assassinate you a little bit as they release the news in a way that says it's all the fault of little workers like you, not the whole system. Something something, David McBride, any whistleblower you feel like, etc. 

So I don't blame you, if your reaction is "but but but, that can't be right, people wouldn't do it, they wouldn't allow it" or just an overwhelming feeling of dread that pushes you to deny all of this and avoid thinking about it. Just know, that's in the book. That's all the seatmates on the flights. That's all his fellow officemates. It's easier to pretend, I know.

But think about, how the response fits in with the themes of the book. The story, as a movie too. What drives the narrator’s mental breakdown? How would you handle being in his position? How would you handle being his seatmate? It’s easy to say you’d listen. But have you? Have you had any soul wrenching betrayals of how you thought society worked? How about a betrayal by the thing that promised to be the fix of the first? Can you honestly say you wouldn’t follow that gut instinct, saying follow what everyone says, that person must just be crazy, evil, rude, cruel, whatever it is that means you can set what they said aside?

For a lot of people, they can do that, I guess. Set it aside. Reaching that aforementioned state of managing to cope with the dissonance and ambiguity and despair is very hard. The narrator made the Big Realization, but he couldn’t cope. He self-destructed. Even when people don’t make the big realization consciously, they’re already self-destructing. It’s hard to escape it when it feels easier than continuing anyway. When it feels like the only option,

Would therapy fix the narrator of Fight Club? Would meds fix the narrator of Fight Club? No. He knows too much. All meds will do, by the time he’s in the psych ward, is spiritually neuter him. A silly phrase, but really. Take the wind out of his sails. 

Is he fixed if he doesn’t try to blow up town? If he just shuts up and settles in and stops costing money? If he still can’t cope with the things he’s unearthed? Do you see how this is a commentary in a commentary in a commentary?

Fight Club is an absolutely fascinating story because of this. The fact that it addresses the fallout of knowing. The isolation. The hopelessness. The spiral that results from a lack of hope. This is, I think, what resonates most with people, even if not consciously. Going insane because you’ve discovered something you wish you could unknow. It’s a classic horror story. Should our society be lovecraftian evil? I don’t think so. 

Do I think changing it will be easy? No. Lord knows a lot exists to push people who make these sorts of Realizations towards feelings of individuality and individualized solutions and denial and other distractions and coping methods. And to prevent people who make One realization from expanding on it and considering further ramifications. Fight Club itself gets into this; the isolation of men being a strict part of the role society shapes for their sex leaves them very vulnerable to death fetishes, in a sense, and generally towards self destructive violence. It helps funnel them away from substantial change and towards ineffectual change. Many things, misogyny, racism, serve to keep people isolated from one another, individualized, angry, and impossible to work with. Market segregation; god knows even appealing on those fronts has become such a classic ploy that companies do it now, the US military frames its plundering that way, etc. 

I’ve wandered a bit but ultimately, my point is this: Fight Club is a love letter to the horrors of critical thinking, and the importance of not falling into the trap of self destruction and hopelessness in the face of it. The latter is why Tyler was an anarchoterrorist instead of anything useful. The latter is why it was a death cult. It’s important to work through the horrors of critical thinking so you can do it, and stand on the other side ready to believe in each other. It’s worth it.

[calicotisane]

Hylics design explorations and an unrelated bit of rain world but never you mind