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#or because it’s the easy choice
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Another thing. and yes I’m still bitching about this because I can’t get over it.
Why did literally NO ONE help Scott, Derek, and Eli with Parrish at the end there? Everyone was just standing around in shock like “nah, the kid who JUST got his powers has this”. Where tf was my loyal beta Liam? Or Malia? Or Lydia screaming while Argent shoots him? Or even freakin Jackson?? He didn’t paralyze anyone the whole movie! Where was that really convenient fox fire shield you had a minute ago from Hikari??
They all just got tied up and were like “nah man tapped out you guys got this”… *face palm*
Like I get the quote unquote symbolism of it but it’s foreal some lazy bullshit.
They tried so hard at the end there to make it a Scott/Derek/fake Stiles Eli focus but missed the opportunity to showcase one of the shows core components: THE PACK. How they’re stronger when they’re all together and helping each other and protecting each other. Like you spent half the movie wrangling the team together just for them all to turn to smoke and then stand around while Derek dies. Pathetic.
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elfcollector · 1 month
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I feel ill. All the fools and villains who ever fell for my ploys, they're — they're here!
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the thing about el higgins is that terry pratchett would have loved her.
I’ve never encountered a character or a series that I could call a spiritual successor to tiffany aching but el is perhaps the closest possible thing. the way that tiffany’s righteous anger is her magic, born from a sense of deeply rooted love and identity with her home and blossoms into a tempered, powerful ability to see what is in front of her. the way el rages against the systems of oppression she can see and how she follows that rage to the very core and from that core she dismantle those systems. how in both doing the right thing is a choice, always a choice, and one that requires choosing again and again and again. “this far and no further.” “you’re already dead but stay anyway.”
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heynhay · 10 months
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i love everybody because i love you
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il-predestinato · 6 months
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You’re Charles Leclerc and you’re barrelling towards turn 1 sandwiched between two Red Bulls with nowhere to go. To your left is the local hero, unquestionably beloved by the entire swath of zealous fans around you. To your right is their behated rival, the target of enough vitriol that he needed special bodyguards this weekend for fear of personal safety - all because he is a perceived aggressor to their beloved local boy.
You’re trapped with nowhere to go, and you have to choose now. If you destroy the man to your right, you’ll be forgiven, perhaps even applauded for taking out such a despised adversary. No one would mourn his loss.
The choice should be an easy one. A no-brainer. It’s not your fault. You were the one being squeezed. It’s pretty obvious what you have to do.
And yet - still, STILL -
You, Charles Leclerc, chose to sacrifice the beloved local hero.
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spielzeugkaiser · 1 year
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I just had the image of Jaskier coming back from a long day of work, and maybe just collapsing in bed from exhaustion, only to wake up and see lil Roachie tucked in with him and lil Milek tucking blankets around him because ‘papa always does it for him! He can take care of papa too!’ I love your art SO much!!! It gives me all the feeelssssss🥹👏🏼❤️❤️❤️
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[MASTERPOST]
Excuse me while I cry, this was just too cute to not draw, thank you for sharing that adorable image with me!
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robertdowneyjjr · 1 year
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armor porn poll series: #1
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daily-hanamura · 8 months
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phantomrose96 · 7 months
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Obsessed with the death imagery around Sampson btw. Smelling like a dead rat, skulking like a ghost. The last survivor of a dead world, only he's barely surviving, certainly not living. The idea of these cultural ascetics is super cool but feels unfathomably sad to me.
(938 Seconds Per Second)
-slams hands on the table- YES.
YES.
Sampson is a detached limb of a dead body. He's a lopped-off finger dropped in formaldehyde and declared "See! The flesh persists!" of a body that has perished.
There are many ways to be tragically and beautifully dead in metaphor. Sampson is not that. Sampson rots. He's off-putting. He disgusts. He's isolated and alone and just... exists half-dead and half-rotten, has to exist, no one is allowing him the dignity to deboard the ship, and live the rest of his human life, and die a human death as the last death of his culture.
He dies more, rots more, when Carson steals and destroys his tome, because Sampson is nothing but the aimless vestige of his culture, alive only to keep it alive... and what is alive? No one is learning the culture. It's not spreading. It's not growing. It's not being studied and remembered and appreciated. ...It's just Sampson, whose only duty is to persist, and persist as long as long as long as possible... as if infinite persistence is the same as life...
Carson was not joking when he said Sampson would kill himself in the wake of the cargo getting ransacked. Carson was dead-fucking correct to think Sampson would kill himself. Those cultural artifacts are all that Sampson stays half-alive for. They're all he is. If they were stolen on his watch, ostensibly by his own fault... Carson was dead-fucking correct.
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groenendaelfic · 1 month
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Faroe Gone Final Chapter Sneak Peak
So there's still lots of editing I need to do before I can post the whole thing, but with tomorrow looming I thought I'd share something "happy" and "cheerful" to distract y'all.
Have fun reading the beginning of the final chapter and hope you enjoy! 😇
Simon doesn't know if it's the sudden fog, his tears, or the fact that all he wants to do is be a fool and turn back around again—the first one, definitely the first one—but he drives back to Tórshavn at almost a snail's pace.
It doesn't matter. He has well over a day until the ferry makes its return journey to Denmark and nothing else to do except go over his time with Wilhelm again and again, replaying the good times and the pleasurable times and wondering if he could have said or done anything to change the outcome of his journey—other than realizing that all of his feelings were mere nostalgic illusion and fantasy, which of course turned out to not be the case.
Quite the opposite. Real Wilhelm was so much more than what Simon made him out to be in his head. There's so much he's missed. So much he doesn't know yet and which he desperately wants to find out.
It hurts, and yet there's nothing else Simon can do, no other choice which wouldn't hurt more sooner or later.
No. Simon tried. He did the best he could and that is enough. It has to be enough.
Simon had to leave while he still could.
The road ahead of him is empty, no one else in sight. No people, no cars, no sheep. Nothing except the wet, cold fog swallowing up everything and a rushing noise in his ears which might be the wind or the ocean or Simon himself.
Simon blinks away another tear and keeps driving, turning up the heat and hoping it will help.
It doesn't.
On the next island he passes a camper van. It's parked, and Simon thinks he can make out a brave tourist trying to take a picture, but he isn't sure. It's not as if there's much to see except an endless wall of grayish white.
Maybe that's the fascination.
Wilhelm told him that there are thirty-seven words for fog in the Faroese language, and while Simon laughed and told him to stop kidding, he's sure he's already experienced half of them, and it's only been two days.
Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but contemplating the uselessness of taking pictures of fog is a lot more bearable than lingering on the fact that he'll never get to be with Wilhelm again, never feel that satisfied ache in his muscles, not like this, and really how long can a grown man cry before he's all out of tears?
Pretty long he guesses.
Simon once stopped Ayub's baby daughter from attempting a daring escape on all fours, and Simon swears she was crying forever. Not that he blames her.
Crying is cathartic if it's anything, but if she could produce that many tears because of nothing more than a foiled plan to explore the stairway, then how many will Simon be able to shed before he's all wrung out? He’s a lot taller than her after all and guaranteed to not forget the reason for his tears even after being presented with some candy.
Simon doesn't want to know.
Simon wants to keep driving through this fog forever, because all that's waiting for him at its end is the mundanity of his never-changing life and a scandal revealing the Crown Prince to have been the victim of underage revenge porn thanks to his second cousin and presumed successor, and that is guaranteed to make it worse, to drag Simon’s name back into public awareness.
He should probably call home and warn his mom, warn Sara, but facing them will be torture of an entirely different kind, and also the investigative journalist they chose is a good one, one bound to build a case and not blindly believe her sources before going public, so there is still time.
Not too much though, as there is an impending deadline if the Royal Court and the Prime Minister are to be believed, or at least Simon would really prefer news of August’s deeds to overshadow him being taken into the line of succession.
Not that he’s so naive as to think a mere article can do more than delay the proceedings at best—although one can always hope—and ideally the journalist and whoever else gets a say in choosing the right time will see it the same way, but all of that is still more than half a week away, so why burden his family before he absolutely has to?
No, he's not going to call home yet, but maybe he should reserve a room before he gets back to the capital.
He decides to do it the old fashioned way and pulls over at the next opportunity. A viewpoint, or so he presumes the sign a few meters away from him would tell him if only it was clear enough to see.
He wipes at his cheeks and opens his phone. There are plenty of options for him to stay at. Small, privately owned places, holiday homes with kitchens and living rooms, quaint little hotels doing their best to sell their Nordic, rustic charm to tourists wealthy enough to make it there, and of course a camping ground, because unlike Sweden, the Faroe Islands don't allow one to set up camp anywhere else.
Simon doesn't choose any of them. He wants a warm but bland room, boring and inoffensive and as likely to be in Tórshavn as on the other side of the world.
Something as far from Wilhelm's colorful and most definitely handmade and expensive wooden furniture as he can get, and so he books himself a room at the first—and only—international hotel chain he can find, something he'd never do otherwise, and pretends that he's looking forward to it. The hotel has a fitness center after all and well over a hundred rooms. Simon is almost going to feel like back home in Uppsala.
Not.
He sighs and makes sure he received a confirmation for his booking, before he throws his phone onto the passenger seat and sighs again.
Somehow, magically, or rather because he's on a windy archipelago in the middle of nowhere, the fog is starting to clear. He can see a few meters of grass now, and then a cliff, and below it the cold, dark ocean pretending at being calm.
Simon wants the fog back, but when has he ever gotten what he wanted, and by the time he's back on the road he swears he can see a tiny patch of blue sky up ahead.
The hotel is on the outskirts of town and exactly as impersonal as Simon hoped it would be. He isn't hungry, and so he goes straight to his room and falls face first into bed.
The sheets are white and the pillows are white and they smell bland and clean and inoffensive, nothing at all like Wilhelm, and why would they?
Simon hates them. Simon also hates the hotel, but it's not as if he's in the mood for sightseeing, and as he isn't willing to take a shower yet—what? He's alone, no one's going to smell him, and isn't that the entire problem?—all that's left to do is turn on the TV, because he's for sure not touching his phone again any time soon.
Not when that would mean having it confirmed with every passing minute that he was a fool to leave Wilhelm his number. Wilhelm isn't going to call, but Simon would rather live in denial for as long as he can.
The TV does not greet him with an info screen as Simon expected, but an English speaking news channel, the volume turned up way too loudly, and Simon turns it off again as fast as he can.
Wallowing in self pity it is then.
Unfortunately Simon's usual answer to bouts of self-pity—angrily jerking off to thoughts of Wilhelm—is not an option right now, because Wilhelm is the entire reason for his misery, and so he grudgingly reaches for his phone after all and starts up a game which would work much better on a computer screen.
He's just about to finish off the newest boss, when a text message pops up.
If I do it, it reads. Then can we
The sentence stops halfway through, and Simon almost has a heart attack.
The delay in his reaction is enough for him to be killed instead, but it's not as if Simon notices.
Wilhelm. It has to be Wilhelm.
He taps the message, and while that makes it larger, it doesn't change the words.
He almost calls Wilhelm back right away, because Wilhelm is swaying, is reconsidering, and Simon wants that, he wants it so bad, to have Wilhelm back in his arms and his life, but also Simon already told Wilhelm that he can't be the only reason Wilhelm returns, that this is a life changing decision if there was ever any, and that Wilhelm needs to make it for himself and not for a hope of them maybe working out, and so he doesn't.
Instead he waits an excruciating minute and then another, just in case Wilhelm wants to add something or pressed send too soon, but no further message follows.
Simon curses and swears and kicks up his feet, because now he has hope again and that is great, but also torture. He doesn't want Wilhelm to get the wrong impression, doesn't want him to think that Simon wouldn't be willing to pick right up where they left off if he could—in the bedroom that is, not when it comes to fighting—and maybe they could also go on a date which has been nineteen years in coming.
Simon wants that. Simon really wants that. How can he not, now that he's had a taste, has spent time with Wilhelm, just Wilhelm, has had breakfast with him and done chores with him and played with his dog. Simon wants Wilhelm back, now more so than ever.
Simon knows he's an idiot, thinking of romance and dating when he just left the love of his life behind, and even if he hadn't, a returning Wilhelm would have much different things on his mind. He'd have to. He'd have no other choice. Things like his dying mother and the throne and the public reacting to his return after ten years in exile.
Wilhelm wouldn't have time for Simon, no matter how much Wilhelm would want him. Not for weeks and not for months. Simon would have to sneak into an assortment of palaces with the eyes of the entire nation on nothing but them if he wanted any time with Wilhelm at all, and Simon wouldn't want that. Simon doesn't want secrecy and sneaking and lies. Not that'd even be an option, what with the press and curious bystanders everywhere.
There is another option of course. The only one Wilhelm would ever consider coming back for. The one which at first glance sounds perfect because it means being with Wilhelm and standing by his side. It would also mean giving up everything else in Simon's life though, but what has he really got to lose? Why stop being foolish now?
Wilhelm told Simon that he's it for him. Wilhelm loves him. Simon's already traveled across an ocean. What's one tiny text message compared to that? Why can't he be selfish just this once and fuck the risk and the idiocy and the fear of what will be in one year? In five? In ten?
It all might end in disaster, but it might also not, and why should he be miserable if there's even the slightest chance at some fleeting happiness. After all it's not as if the email Wilhelm sent isn't bound to upend Simon's life anyway, and it's not as if Wilhelm is actually going to come.
Simon wants to be happy.
Simon wants to be happy and now there's a chance for it and so why not take it? He's done stupider things before, like coming here in the first place, so he might as well go all the way.
He doesn't text Wilhelm a yes, doesn't make any promises. He texts one word and one word alone, followed by a number, the name of the hotel and his room number, and maybe that's the biggest promise of all.
He doesn't regret it. He couldn't stay, not without making his inevitable departure even worse, but now he's done his part and the ball is in Wilhelm's court, all the balls are, and Simon is here and waiting.
For a ferry. For Wilhelm. For the life they could have had.
Fuck.
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paellegere · 5 days
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there is interesting johndean subtext and insinuations across kripke era, usually through an antagonist insinuating parent-child sexual violence in order to exert dominance over dean. this type of mockery exploits that ambiguous relationship between john and dean and reminds dean that he never had a normal relationship with his father, and that makes him gross and wrong. it doesn't actually matter in the end whether john was sexually abusive to dean. the core of their relationship was damning enough: dean was made to take the place of john's wife—to comfort john and raise sam—while simultaneously being his son. the codependent nature of their relationship implies the incest that underscores their dynamic. again, this is regardless of what literally occurred between dean and john because there is enough doubt toward the nature of their relationship that multiple antagonists can use it against them.
sonwife, brotherhusband—dean is stuck in a liminal space between family and lover and is unable to put his feet firmly on just one side and instead has to accept both together or abandon both together. he doesn't get to have a relationship with his family without it being simultaneously incestuous. he plays the role of wife to john and mother to sam as mary's replacement; he therefore becomes more than a son and transcends the boundaries of the familial into the incestuous. it's baked into the dynamic and he can't hope to escape the liminality in which he's stuck without abandoning his entire family altogether.
this ambiguous relationship is further acted out with sam, where people perceive them as lovers rather than brothers; where their mutual devotion trumps, neglects, and disallows any other close relationship outside each other; where their physical closeness is viewed through an unusually sexual lens despite no literal sex acts between them taking place on screen. once again dean is stuck in a liminal space, paralleling the ambiguous and uncertain relationship he had with john.
in the end, sex (and sexual violence) is just a symbol of this codependency and uncertainly incestuous dynamic. sex acts in kripke era end up being symbolic: misinterpretations of sam and dean's relationship; accusations of sexual violence; literal, on-screen sexual moments between the brothers and someone else. it's a literary device that highlights the incestuous themes of the show. dean hand-picks women for sam to fuck because it allows dean to be symbolically part of sam's sex life. henricksen accuses john of raping dean because it is a symbol of the unhealthy, codependent relationship dean had with his father. the samulet stays on during sex because sam is symbolically integral to dean's sexual gratification (seen too in the way both dean and cassie in 1.13 appear to kiss the amulet at least once in the dark room). sex is used to signify more than what's literally on the screen, and the connections between the literal sex acts and the blurred lines of dean's familial relationships allow for a reading of incest between both john and dean and sam and dean.
it never mattered whether johndean or samdean had a sexual relationship in the canon because that was never the point. the point is the liminality that permeates the narrative. sam, dean, and john all stand upon a threshold between acceptable and taboo. the point of it all is the doubt and anxiety, the are-they-aren't-they that is never answered. the absence of incest within the text invites the understanding that the incest was, in fact, always there.
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sysig · 5 months
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Let him dad her!! (Patreon)
#Doodles#Adventure Time#Fionna and Cake#Fionna Campbell#Simon Petrikov#I cannot BeLieve that they didn't hug at any point - illegal. One million years dungeon#She slapped him (deservedly) but they didn't hug by the end??? I had to fix it#Jerry is my favourite episode so that at least was an easy choice lol#If anywhere would be a good place to cross that line it would be to comfort her! I can't imagine he'd initiate tho haha#She's just seeking comfort so badly <3 I know she's at least legally considered an adult but she's still a kid!#And Simon just keeps adopting kids lol#He's a good dad :) Not a perfect one but y'know? He helps where he can#Sometimes all we need is a parent figure giving you a hug and saying ''You know what? You're right - this sucks. But I see you''#Fionna's quite interesting 'cause like - she's meant to be a Finn but there are a lot of differences between her and quite a few Finns!#A lot of that is Because she lived in Simon's head for so long but I wonder - most Finns have decent support systems and she seems a little#Well not lacking Exactly but her fallbacks aren't as numerous - and she's not able to fulfill her life's purpose so she's just kinda wayward#Seeing that kind of Finn finally able to spread their wings but still have a lot of Finn trappings like naivety and impulsivity ♪#She's interesting! I quite like her :D Plus it's cool to see her natural EQ when she calls out Simon later in this episode unknowingly haha#I stopped at episode eight for a while but year her line about ''Then you got on the bus right? :D'' and him refuting it#Hmmm ♪ It was certainly interesting - I'm glad they addressed it :)#Plus she's fun to draw haha ♫ Her bunny ears! And the jacket she took from Martin </3 She has a fun design#And as always Simon is fun to draw :) Especially piecemeal here haha - just his mouth or just his eyes ♪ Cute :)
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hecksupremechips · 11 months
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Ever think about Date’s view on family and how that relates to his character? When Mizuki asks him to define family, he just awkwardly offers that its like being blood related to someone. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and Mizukis, but like, he literally had no idea what a real family looks like. He’s an orphan, a man who grew up with no family and no name, but he doesn’t know that yet. He has no memory of his past, no way of knowing if there’s someone out there waiting for him to come home, if he even had a place to call home. His only frame of reference for a family is Mizuki and her parents. Deep down he knows it’s not right, not loving, but it fits the mold of a nuclear family, man and woman, blood related, so that must be what family is. When he’s asked to take in Mizuki, he’s absolutely clueless because he literally has zero frame of reference for how a child is supposed to be cared for. He puts distance between them because this isn’t his place, he doesn’t have the right to love this child as his own because he isn’t the real dad. There’s no place for someone like him in a family. And it’s baffling to him to hear that Mizuki not only loves him, she needs him because he is her family. Date believes he’s a nobody, just a sad, lonely man with no name who absolutely does not deserve this kind of love. But he has it anyway because he chooses it, he makes something that neither he nor Mizuki have ever had before. HES HOME
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destielyurii · 6 months
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it's SO important to me that they play chess together. and that they play prime not prime, quiz eachother on tv & movies, play with rc cars, play virtual golf. but especially the chess
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fortyfive-forty · 25 days
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i've been ruminating a lot on it because i think i'm bad at putting my thoughts into words but i need y'all to understand that while there are absolutely a lot of Not Good Things about the finals being held in saudi arabia for three years...the way people seem to treat is as morally black and white is shortsighted and unhelpful.
realistically the players traveling there will be protected. it may be uncomfortable, it's certainly not ideal, but they will travel there for a few weeks, play their tennis, then leave. there are a lot of women, a lot of queer people who actually live in saudi arabia who cannot just leave, who are actually subjected to laws and social climates...and to me it just seems very disrespectful to that actual lived experience, for everybody to sort of turn their noses up and get on their high horses. of course, if the players wish to opt out, that is their choice, but that is their choice to make. that's their judgement. not ours.
and then, what about a tournament like miami? florida is literally experiencing one of the worst active regressions that i've seen in the us (granted i'm young). things like critical race theory and lgbtq+ ed are being removed from curriculums, rights for trans youth, trans healthcare, etc. are going backwards. abortion rights? gun violence? and yes i know that the laws and climate in saudi arabia are different gravy, i understand that, but my point is, no one would ever DREAM of arguing against hosting a tournament in miami despite all of these issues. and we can extend this to a lot of other tournaments! i mean, all the outrage about fifa hosting a world cup in qatar, but we don't have any of these sentiments about doha? i've seen other people bring up that the finals were hosted in singapore when gay marriage was still illegal there. we've already talked about italy's fascist prime minister. and i could go on and on and on about the war crimes of countries like the us or the uk - is the us not participating actively in genocide right now? where is the standard? if you argue against hosting the finals in saudi arabia for the reason of human rights, to me it seems you have to uphold that standard for the location you do land on. and i can guarantee, you will not find a single country in the world with clean hands.
i want to be clear i am not arguing that hosting the finals in saudi arabia is a good thing, especially for three years, especially because it's definitely going there because of money, and not for any of the "good" reasons i think some people want us to believe about "improving the region" (which is very weirdly white savior-esque anyway). i don't really have an official "conclusion" to this discussion.
what i am arguing is that i think a lot of the protests against saudi arabiahosting the finals are more an example of implicit anti-arab bias and islamophobia, rather than genuine discussion. key word implicit: i don't think most people are purposefully trying to be anti-arab/islamophobic. or at least, i'd like to believe nobody is. but i also think, particularly in the west, there is already so much of this xenophobic sentiment ingrained. and this is why i think it's really really REALLY important to check ourselves when we talk about it instead of just jumping straight to the human rights conversation without a second thought.
i'll say it plainly: i don't think the finals should be held in saudi arabia. but for me, it has more to do with sportswashing, with the dangers of the way money is thrown around in sports, and because i think it's more evidence that the wta doesn't care about player welfare but rather about making a profit (what else is new). human rights are absolutely a concern of mine, but how is it fair to hold saudi arabia to a standard that we don't seem to care about for literally anybody else?
literally look at the us's ugly ugly history, past and present, and tell me why we deserve to host a tennis tournament.
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llitchilitchi · 25 days
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Litchi, what is the artwork you are most proudest of or which of your Aus is you fave 🎤
don't really have a favourite artwork (though I am kinda proud of the amout of comic work I did way back when) but favourite AU? definitely Monarchy Restoration. forever my favourite with the combination of renaissance fashion, fairytale-like aesthetics and the sheer fucked-up-ness of the c!DTeam's relationships
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