just a vent dont mind me
thinking about like. you know like. when you do a lot for someone you love, or just in general, like, you put in a lot of effort into something, into helping someone or making them happy, and like. you do it because you love them, or because you care about them, or just because you want to help, or because it's right, or because you just like making people happy. and that's great, that's fine, like. you really aren't doing it for something. like you don't expect anything back. they certainly don't owe you anything, they didn't ask for it, and you wanted to do it, and you'd do it again. will do it again. but sometimes it kind of--like. unfairly, selfishly, it kind of hurts that no one does the same for you. like. it feels like maybe you're not worth it. and that's silly, like. you didn't do it so that they'd do something for you, and you offered, you did it without being asked, you did it because you wanted to, and that's--that's fine. they don't owe you anything. no one owes you anything. it's petty to think i did this for you, why can't you do this for me? it's selfish. and that's fine. like. it's fine. like. it's not that you want to stop doing nice things--even if the petty thought occurs to you, the second it actually comes time, you'll immediately give in because you want them to be happy, you like doing nice things, even at cost of your preciously rare time and energy, and that's okay! they don't ask--or maybe they do, but they fully would take no for an answer and not be upset about it, and you know it's your choice--you just do it because you want to. but is it so selfish to just. wish someone would want to for you, for once? without being asked? to want to be the one taken care of? to be the one someone cooks for just because, or takes care of when you're sick, or someone goes out of their way to watch something with you even if they're not interested, or like. just. anything. anything like that. just because it's you, or just because they can, and it's nice. is that so bad. why does it always feel like you put more in than they do. why do you feel bad about it when they didn't ask you to, you're the one putting that in, and they don't owe you something equal just because you decided to go overboard. like. it's just. being too much, i guess. wanting too much. i dunno. might cry a bit.
......anyway, [bill wurtz voice] you could make a blorbo fanfic out of this
yes, yes. projecting onto blorbos. That Will Fix Me.
so if you see some extremely specific angst fic from me later, [rainbow star goes across the screen] Now You Know
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So there is this thing that the two Villeneuve Dune movies do together that I cannot stop thinking about, where they will present something (often, a weapon) in a context the first time around where it looks a certain way (often, very sexy and cool). And then they will present it again in a way that doesn't exactly negate your reading of the original context but makes you recoil in horror from the new context.
Paul and Jessica using the Voice to escape from their Harkonnen captors? Very sexy and cool. Look at them working together, mother and son, a couple of space witch badasses.
Jessica using the Voice on Chani to force her to participate in reviving Paul after he drinks the Water of Life? Horrifying. Saying you will be part of this myth that has been created to serve political ends that have nothing to do with your liberation, and if you don't do it voluntarily to save the person you love then I will make you do it.
Chani and Paul working together to take down the ornithopter gunship using those little shoulder-fired rockets? Very sexy and cool, we love guerrilla warfare against an occupying army. (I'm not being facetious here, this sequence is extremely satisfying to watch.)
The much later image of Paul silhouetted against the blast from the missiles from his family's private nuclear arsenal blowing up the shield wall? Nightmarish.
The way the climactic battle to retake the palace at Arrakeen extends into the night so that it begins to look very very much like the initial Harkonnen attack on the same place? I'm sure this is intentional; the whole third act is about taking a giant sledgehammer to the idea that the Atreides are the better or more civilized imperialists.
Perhaps my favorite example of this is the Atreides signet ring. When Paul first puts it on in the first movie, it's a symbol of him accepting that Leto is dead. It's a melancholy moment, but it's also a sign of Paul accepting the responsibility of his birthright as the new Duke.
Early in the second movie, when he is trying to be equal to the Fremen, he takes the ring off. And you just know that when he decides to put it back on again, that will be the sign that everything's about to go to shit. And when it happens it's a very similar moment--it is Paul accepting his birthright, just a different kind. But the accompanying feeling is oh no.
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To me, the best embodiment of modern capitalism is in the phrase "please hold, we are experiencing higher than usual call volume". I know it's a lie. You know it's a lie. But you still hear that line every time you call, regardless of the day or time, because it shifts the blame. It tries to prompt you to blame the other callers instead of asking, "Hey, why are they deliberately understaffing their call centers and making it so difficult to get help?" It takes a failing caused by a deliberate, profit-focused management choice, and turns it into a problem with the people using the system, rather than one with the system itself. And that pattern, to me, is the epitome of the modern corporate system.
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aaa games: we have some of the most CUTTING EDGE character customization options for you!! you can't make them fat tho, only cause we'd have to design more clothing models and adjust the animation for them and we just don't have the resources for that haha you understand right. that's totally the only reason we don't let you do that. anyways which of these 6 cocks would you like your character to have
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I think it's incredibly important to remind folks on testosterone or folks who want to reverse patterned baldness about their options, but man, does it sometimes suck wondering how much of our insecurities about our hair stem from backwards beliefs that to strive towards beauty is not only preferable but "makes you good."
As someone with a rather masculinized body pre-medical transition, patterned baldness has always seemed neutral. Hair is incredibly important (hell, much of my own energy is spent on my hair because I like it), but the pressure to have hair, to have hair the "right way" is something that I absolutely loathe.
I'm not here to judge people who don't want patterned hair loss or baldness, I'm here to say that those traits will never make you lesser. Not only is it neutral, but it is also just as worthy and beautiful.
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something i wish i'd see more in trigun fanarts is people having vash speak their native/non-english languages completely unprompted, ive seen folks have him speak french, which he canonically knows, but i really do believe he's a polyglot. mostly because of that one time in the desert when he saw the samurai and wanted to greet him in japanese but struggled to remember how to even say hello.
my headcanon is that rem had them learn as many languages as possible but with the big fall and so many people dying, which i think is what led english to became No man's land main (or even only?) language, means that vash (and knives!) both got horribly out of practice and are various sort of rusty in every others languages.
what im saying if there's any pun or joke you've been dying to write but just doesn't work in english vash (and knives!!) are right there!
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Prompt 274
You know what is fun? Baby Ghost Jason. You know what could be even more fun? Ghosts are Dragons.
Jason? Aware of none of this.
He was on comms, y’know listening and rolling his eyes at Dickwing, who used his real name, really Dick, he mocks. It’s just a stakeout, nothing new there, honestly boring when he could be blowing something up instead. It should have just been a stakeout.
Yet there’s something suddenly there, something behind him. Something that causes his hair to stand on end and his comms to spark into static like some sort of horror movie. Something, something with clawed hands with corpse-pale skin tipped in black, stained or dead or something else, tilting his head up and up and up as he’s frozen.
“A child, out here? Alone?” a voice crackles, hisses, hums, and purrs, somehow all at once, unnatural in its tone. He can’t move, he needs to move, he has to move, but it’s like the space around him has gone cold and dead, like he’s stuck in the Pits once more as claws hold his head and his vision blurs. “Sleep, child. Rest- we’ll be home soon.”
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