#yes I know the company is not my friend

[aquarius-cookie-jar]

Once again, I find myself disappointed by Devsis AND the cookie run community, and how alarmingly racist a lot of people are.

All screenshots and information gathered here are from twitter user @/Celezticuh.

This will be a discussion on not just Cookie Run: Tower of Adventures, but also the community's response against the wider issue. It's gonna be long, so buckle up.

1. What's going on with Cookie Run: Tower of Adventures?

To no one's surprise, it's racism against Black people and Indigenous people, yey! /S

Why is this an issue? Because these traditional practices and clothing of people of color (especially those of black and native american descent) have often been used as just costumes and props instead of being respected as what it is, a culture that is to be respected.

This is what Celezticuh has stated in greater detail about what is wrong:

2. The community's response.

Celezticuh and several other members of the CRTOA discord have brought up this issue in the official discord server, but have experienced pushback FROM THE COOKIE RUN COMMUNITY ITSELF.

Here are some notable people defending this behavior.

Let me be clear, as an asian myself, telling people that "Oh they're asian, they don't know!" Or "They don't care!" Is -newsflash- ALSO RACIST TOWARDS ASIAN PEOPLE??????

We here in asia face discrimination for not being light skinned, skinny, and colorism. It's not as bad as being the subject of extreme racism, but it has negative effects on our society. And it disgusts me how people genuinely think that just because they're korean, means they get a free pass to be disrespectful towards other people outside of their circle.

Secondly, they have fans INTERNATIONALLY. If they only cared about korean fans, they would not have as big of an impact on the wider scale as they do. They know we (the people outside of korea) have our eyes on them. And people who say that they don't know, are full of bullshit.

3. Why has there no action been taken against this?

A big issue as to why this has never reached Devsister's ears is because the Korean community isn't as outraged at this compared to the international audience. Now, I am not saying we should automatically assume any and all korean players are as racist as the company, but I'd chalk it up to ignorance, which still sucks let's be real.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the international community has been calling for protests and asking for the trucks to be delivered again, but unless we have support from the korean community, it's looking to be highly unlikely.

So here we ask for people to help us get into contact with someone from the korean community who's willing to help get the trucks set up again.

--

I'm not the best at conclusions, however, I want to leave off with a message.

The cookie run community has festered some of the most racist, vile garbage of people I've ever seen. Not just towards black and non pale skinned people of color, but even towards the asians you claim to defend themselves (Dark Cacao, Affogato and Peach Blossoms are barely scratching the surface.).

Cookie run fans, please do better.

[scificrows]

Okay, my brain refuses to think about anything other than Murderbot, so I looked at every use of the word "friend[s]" in TMBD and... created some pie charts. Normal human activities.

Some Thoughts™ I had while putting this together (under the cut):

In All Systems Red, Murderbot notes that the PresAux crew are all close friends (twice! and goes on to explain their internal relationships which I think is very cute). This is pretty much the only use of 'friends' in ASR, except for when Murderbot says that SecUnits can't be friends with each other.

It seems that this may be one of the first times Murderbot has ever really been around a group of friends before? Murderbot notes that this is not the norm for its contracts and admits that the fact that they are all friends and the way they interact with each other make it actually enjoy that contract (before!!!! the hostile attack, so it already enjoys this contract before they start seeing it as a person etc ghghhhh). [Inference: Friendship seems enjoyable.]

The first character that calls Murderbot its friend is ART in Artificial Condition. Murderbot immediately refutes this (and then goes on to call ART its friend to its clients for the rest of the book). [Inference: Maybe ART is Murderbot's friend. And maybe that is... agreeable]

Rogue Protocol has more than twice as many instances of the word 'friend' as any of the other novellas. Why? Miki. Friendship and its implications for non-humans are a central theme because Miki is friends with everyone. Murderbot initially scoffs at the notion that Miki and Miki's humans are friends. At the end of the book, after witnessing how desperately Don Abene tried to stop Miki from trying to save them, and her grief after its death, Murderbot has to admit that she had in fact been Miki's friend. [Inference: Humans can be friends with bots and can sincerely care about them]

In Exit Strategy, Murderbot tentatively uses the word "friends" for its humans for the first time (several times actually). It questions whether it can actually call them its friends or not and later realizes that it had been afraid what admitting that the humans are its friends would do to it. At the end of the book, Mensah tells Murderbot the PresAux crew are its friends, which is the first time a human has directly said that to it (at least on-page). [Inference: Humans can and want to be Murderbot's friends]

In Network Effect, Murderbot seems to be more habituated to the word 'friend', confidently calling ART and Ratthi its friends, like it is no longer just trying the concept on unsure if it fits. There are many instances in which other characters refer to MB as ART's friend or the other way around and Murderbot's humans refer to Murderbot as their friend several times. Generally, there seems to be less hesitancy, because yes, all of them are Murderbot's friends, why wouldn't they be. [Inference: SecUnits can have friends. This SecUnit has friends. They care about it a lot.]

Conclusion: The Murderbot Diaries tell the story of a construct that does not seem to consider the possibility of friendship for itself and is fine with that - until it accidentally starts caring a little too much and suddenly more and more people annex it as a friend (ew) to the point where it can no longer deny that this is happening and has to begrudgingly admit that yes, it has friends now and maybe that is actually not a bad thing.

[sunshades]

MC Heath's chatter line about being able to move his arms weirdly while he sounds genuinely happy makes me sick he is so dear to me

LET'S ALL APPRECIATE THIS LINE HE IS SO ANNOYING GOD BLESS

there rly is something so bittersweet about this ID... that little self-esteem moment about his career in uptie chatter 2, then this one with that pride he shows at times about his body & strength... and at the same time that feeling that it's all for naught. the second of hesitation when he thinks abt what in his mind could POSSIBLY be worth returning to... you need someone to share it with. even if the person who loves you isn't here you can at least show your manager who has been trying to be your friend... argh!!

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[lemons-pears]

FUN MOTH FACT:

if you're part of the team, the unit, the company, wherever, beware: moth is the type to affirm. as long as you're considered a teammate, you're getting praised-

old or current unit, he doesn't care. might fumble a little with addressing people but he's adjusting-

get positively reinforced B)

"Ading- matalas ang mata mo! Nice shot!"

"Wh- Sergeant that's not my name-"

"...Right then. You have very good eyes! Good job on the field! Keep up the good work, trying your best is the best!"

"...!?" [Shadow.exe has stopped working]

[crows-of-buckets]

Guys. I think that Aviae/Morrigan may be endgame... I'm romancing her with the bi companions mod and this shit got me kicking my feet... I'm only at the very very beginning but

THEY MAKE ME ILL IM GONNA THROW UP OUYGHGGH

[simcardiac-arrested]

OHHHHH MY GOD COMING OFF ANON BECAUSE !??!?!? SCPSL MENTIOn!!?!??!? you are the ONLY person i've EVER seen that mentioned that game in being similar to lethal company ohhhh my god oh my god i used to be so crazy autism over that game Okay. okay. oh my godddd I LOVE(D) SCPSL SO MUCH and it makes me so so so happy to see a game like it get so popular!!! i love lethal company!!! and i love the creatures and the randomly generated facilities and the PROXIMITY chat and the lore (sigurd adn desmond<3) and i love that ALL MY FRIENDS CAN AND DO PLAY ITTT ^__^ its like 14 year old me got blessed by the autism fairy joy and beauty to the world

i don’t know how to say this in a way that wont make me sound like i shouldnt be allowed in public spaces so i’ll just go ahead and say it. I have 200 hours in scpsl

[beevean]

Short trade with @the-crow-binary :) inspired from this old piece, because sometimes, you're just in need of feeding your rarepair.

~

"My Lord, I can feed myself..."

Hector's protests went unheard. In fact, his husband's crimson eyes seemed to twinkle with delight while he shifted on his lap; it was a good thing Hector had the strength to bear his weight, and enjoy the close contact without any discomfort.

"I know, dear. I've watched how graceful you are when you feed... You're a merciful vampire, and a merciful Lord." Mathias' fangs shone like gems in his smile, as he swirled the golden chalice in his hand with lazy twists of his wrist. "But how tedious would our existence be if we only bothered to feed to satisfy our animal needs?"

That, he could agree with. It took thirty years or so before Hector felt ready to take the plunge, and join his beloved in immortality. The prospect of shedding his humanity, after fighting tooth and nail to reclaim it, had been terrifying: would he be ready to shy away from the sun, and find comfort in the shadows? Would he be ready to sink his teeth in human flesh, and force on others the same pain that had been forced on him? And would he be ready to exist beyond the limits of time, growing distant from the world as a whole, witnessing empires rise and fall while he stayed untouched and unchanging?

Only his Lord - his real Lord, not the monster that took his semblance and used him and toyed with his heart - could allay his worries. And not one day, ever since he had woken up in his coffin and his blood had frozen inside his veins, he ever regretted his unholy marriage.

Yes, Hector more than looked forward to spending his existence not as a mere vampire, but as Lord Cronqvist's consort, joined as one person.

"Very well, my king," Hector reclined on his throne and grinned, pulling Mathias' face closer to his, until it was all he could see, all it mattered. "I trust you."

It was all his husband needed to hear. In one swift motion, he lifted the chalice to his mouth and tilted it. However, Hector's keen senses noticed that his Adam's apple was not bobbing, and no sound of swallowing accompanied the gesture. And like that, he understood.

So, he put no resistance when Mathias closed the gap between them, with cheeks slightly swollen, and instead readily parted his lips.

Blood, thick and rich blood flowed from his beloved mouth to Hector's, slightly cooled down but no less exquisite. Hector drank in slow, steady gulps, letting the nectar down his dry throat, but not without darting his tongue out, caressing Mathias' soft lips and pointy fangs; he reciprocated with eagerness, entangling both tongues in languid strokes, mixing blood and venom in a heady concoction he could not get enough of.

In occasions such as these, he did not miss needing to breathe.

With Hector's disappointment, eventually he finished drinking all the blood, and Mathias straightened his back, face glowing with satisfaction. Privately, Hector missed his human eyes, that glistened like jades, but he was still utterly beautiful, more than the angels he used to pray to.

"Well, precious? Would you allow me to pamper you for longer?"

Mathias wiped some drops of blood that slipped out of Hector's mouth; he kissed the finger, and then he grasped the whole hand and planted more kisses on the back, because they might be no longer Lord and knight, but his husband still shivered in pleasure as if he were still human and Hector could ask for nothing more.

"As you wish, my love," he murmured against Mathias' fair skin. "We have enough time."

[king-ludwig-ii]

in work drama updates: the person who outed me is the same person who’s been ratting people out to our supervisor.

This one guy joked about not working out his full two weeks bc he was so excited to leave so they went to management and told them that he straight up said he wasn’t going to show up on his last day so they sent him home half a week early.

Another coworker told them she was in the final round interviews for another job and they also went to management and they ended up firing her the same day

[razorblade-tf]

I think I need to step back from the dca fandom.

I'm not but I probably should.

I keep calling people friend

[shymaidxn]

@flovverworks | cont. from ( x )

Of course she pauses when they finally get the courage to speak, her entire process halting with her key dangling from the lock. Ah...They doted on her so much. She knew by now that it was their nature to just be concerned over their friend - no matter how close that friendship was - and it truly was a comfort at her low points to have such a caring neighbor. But her heart aches at the offer too. Her thoughts still flooded with self-deprecation, seeing Akira and knowing that, while they cared so much, this was also just business too. It's not their fault, though, even if her annoyance and worry presents itself with quick words and furrowed brows. Oh, she should just tell her mom to help her move apartments, but that wouldn't solve anything. Her mother and Bishop would both reject the idea when she felt so safe in this little complex. And, despite the cloud hanging over her, she'd hate to leave her only other friend...

"...I'm sorry." She says it in a dry laugh, finally giving Akira the time of day and looking them in the eye. This situation always sucks though, forcing a small smile, while not sure what exactly to say to ease the situation. God, she really was so boring and terrible...

"I'll, um...Let me, first -" She doesn't finish before grabbing her keys from her door, putting them back in her purse before taking a step towards Akira. A bit shaky, a bit stiff, yet trying to laugh off nerves with tired, smiling eyes. "...I'd love to try a cup. I feel like my tea selection has gotten a bit same-old, same-old anyways, you know? I should try new things once in awhile..."

[kashuan]

once again I am Pondering this line from the gwent story... a small detail but it means So much to me... thinking about how we could have had it all in witcher 3 if this set up had been used....... . . .

[bestfluteninja]

breaking news recognizing that you feel desperately lonely because you have been severely lacking in social conversational interaction this week and taking steps to fix that will ultimately make you feel better!

[machidielontheway]

i'm anxious about tomorrow cause i'll go see friends for a walk

and last time (i was also tired and it was cold) i went home and had a big cry cause i couldn't stop comparing myself to them in terms of interaction, funnyness, interesting, etc. i felt like i wasn't saying much and that much was not interesting, when they were saying funny things and there was that moment when you're saying / explaining / story-telling something and you can feel [narrator note : it was totally her vision of things and might not be true at all] when they're losing interest and not really listening and you just peter off talking because of that

and also one of them i don't see super often (but we go way back and always in a casual way, so in itself it's not a problem / impactful) but when we're in a little group very often (like near 10 times i think ? at least 5 for sure) i have said something - maybe under my breath, maybe unsure, maybe not very directed - and literally juste after she says the same thing as if she just thought it and i don't know if it's a "she didn't really heard me but heard enough that it makes her thought she came up with what she is saying, which is actually what i just said" of if it's a "she didn't really understand what i said / meant so she doesn't get she is saying the same thing" (also when she words for words say the same thing after... well). I have no doubts that she doesn't notice she does it, but it's still hurting me / hurtful

cause i feel like i don't have a place because i don't have a voice, and that i don't have a place because i'm not interesting / fun so it's not entertaining to hang out with me

and it feeds / is seen through (the lived experience of what i think is happening, and what i think is happening given my previous experience) by my ✨childhood friendship trauma✨ of two of my friends, who met through me, dumping me after a while of being cold to me cause, as i found while rooting through their stuff (listen i was 13 give me a break) (it was the era of note giving and notebook sharing every morning and i was NOT in this particular notebook sharing) that they thought i was super annoying (when we really had been good friends before, at least when they didn't know each other)

so my friendship fear is not in the making, it's in the maintening. i fear being annoying and unless i have somebody who is very clear / very showing in their behaviour that they appreciate me being here / spending time with me each time, well then i will just Try To Not Be Annoying which ends up with me not being much of anything at all, which of course doesn't help in return.

i'm used to it when we saw each other with A and B, it was not good but i can brace myself, but last week it happened with B and C, which i'm not used to (i think thus the big cry after) especially as C is also quite socially anxious, but she's actually VERY funny and engaging when comfortable. and now i'm like ah tomorrow i will see A, B, and C, and what will be of me ? what if i'm the only one being self-effacing out of anxiety of not wanting to be hurt (feeling like they don't care / don't listen) and they all say things that makes the others laugh ? and what does that say about me when this is supposed to be some of my closest friends ?

[kerorowhump]

[bardicc-inspo]

Kicking my feet sitting on the table distracting my friend while he spends 8 hours machining the entire structure of our payload (nobody kicks me out of the shop bc they can't tell my gender)