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aangarchy · 3 months

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Alright now this pissed me off

What do you MEAN you're going to remove one of the most important aspects of Sokka's character arc in the first season? What do you MEAN you're going to remove Sokka unlearning misogyny, accepting change and embracing his role as a fighter and protector of the Avatar in order to end the war? What do you MEAN???

#they're also going to apparently show the rise of the fire nation as well as the airnomad genocide #which; again; i'm conflicted on #atla #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #sokka #atla live action #atla netflix #netflix

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wizard-mp4 · 3 months

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I'm having a rough day at work but I'm going to live

#cowmmunist #I'm going to live #none of this matters and everything will be okay

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reasonsforhope · 26 days

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Sometimes you just have one of those moments where the progress we've made as a culture get thrown into stark relief. You look at something and go "Holy shit, that would never have happened when I was a kid."

Today, I had one of those moments when I realized that the teenage boys I'm working with are just. genuinely, openly enthusiastic about going to Build-a-Bear for their outing.

These are sixteen and seventeen year old boys! They just had a whole conversation about what to name their "cute", mostly new squishmallows! They're genuinely excited that they're going to Build-a-Bear this weekend and asking other kids to pick up specific accessories for them!!

Holy shit, that never would've happened when I was 16. None of the boys would have dared to be visibly interested - and neither would most of the girls! There would have been a million gay jokes and "Haha, you're a girl" jokes and "What are you, a baby?" jokes. Teenagers weren't even supposed to care about anything back then!

Less than 15 years later, and I'm watching three 17 year old boys treat all that as not even worthy of comment.

So let's call that a reason for hope. Even when the kids aren't alright, in some ways apparently they are alright. Go Gen Z, honestly. It's so lovely to watch you guys just openly doing and saying stuff that, when I was a teen, would've been a social death sentence.

#obligatory disclaimer that this really really obviously is not universal #I do live in a major progressive city #there's definitely a level of a liberal bubble effect here #but it's still really powerful to see it #because even in a major liberal enclave there were so many limits on the gender roles and homophobia etc. etc. fronts #and also the limits of the oppressive weight of obligatory teen apathy lol #seriously go gen z. so glad you guys decided cringe is dead. I love you for that so much #and I love it for you #not news #life #hope #homophobia #sexism #teens #teenagers #progress #gen z #btw if it wasn't clear I'm a #millennial #plush toy #plushie #squishmallows #build a bear #stuffed animal #like the idea of almost any teenager much less teenage boys #saying IN FRONT OF THEIR PEERS #that they are excited about their STUFFED ANIMALS #when I was a teenager #?????#cannot imagine that ever happening.

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talisidekick · 2 years

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If a transgender person asks you to deadname and misgender them in front of certain people. Misgender them and deadname them in front of those people. It doesn't matter how icky or gross it may feel, it doesn't matter you'd rather be honest. It doesn't matter if there's more of you there. Certain people aren't safe, and honesty IS NOT the best policy when honesty could put them at serious risk. It doesn't matter if there's a crowd, because when there isn't shit goes down.

Be an ally, do what they ask. Understand that the trans person knows more about their situation than you do, and this includes who's safe and who's not. Some one can be "trans friendly" to other people, but not to people they know or specific people. Do as the trans person asks, yes it's uncomfortable, but it's 10 times worse if the person we don't trust finds out. 100 times worse if they have access to us when you're not around.

Respect trans peoples safety. Misgender and deadname when asked.

#trans #transgender #lgbt+#lgbtq+#2slgbtqia+#lgbt #transfem #transmasc #transneutral #there is a post about this on my blog but it reminded me of my own situation #my whole family knows I'm out and I didn't want them to #my entire extremely christian catholic and mormon extended family knows because I let my sister tell my parents because we weren't talking #now I live in constant damn fear I'm going to get a message forwarded from family to the point I blocked my own parents #these are dangerous people who will stop at nothing to ruin my life if they find me so I'm going to ask I get deadnamed and misgendered #in front of them #i'm going to lie that it's a joke so I can live my life in relative peace.

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pangur-and-grim · 6 months

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I was thinking about how long it takes to build a relationship with an animal.

like when I first got Tallgeese, she'd run in fear if I tried to approach her. and now three years later it's hard to walk through the backyard, because she's following me about like a puppy and placing herself directly beneath my descending feet.

meanwhile Grim was standoffish for the first few years of me having her, and would act all offended if I tried to scritch her ears. and now, in year eleven, she keeps me up at night by forcing herself under my arm and purring like a jet engine.

it makes me emotional. like here are my little guys, we've spent years figuring out how to love eachother, no big deal or anything.

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messrsbyler · 1 year

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you. yes you, person with rejection sensitive dysphoria. this message is for you. your friends DON'T hate you. they aren't mad at you. they aren't talking behind your back or wished to cut their friendship with you. they love you and treasure you and they are good people who wouldn't hurt you like that! ok, that's all. have a nice day.

#this is for everyone with RSD... except for me #my friends do hate me and do think i'm a burden in their lives and they do wish they had a way to let me know they don't wanna be friends #anymore but they feel pity so they never do #... this is a joke that turned too real and too dark too soon #it'll get better #anyhow this message will self destruct in-#i'm all over the place my brain is being mean to me i'll go to bed ugh #nic posts #and drowns in self pity for NO REASON #i'm going to kick my brain's butt #ok ok bye #rejection sensitive dysphoria #rsd is a bitch #rsd things

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somecunttookmyurl · 3 months

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the "all customer service people are trained by management to be illiterate apes you can never get any resolutions by design dont be mean about it" crowd would faint to know there is a guy at my bank RIGHT NOW attempting to resolve an issue that would normally take a week

see. i tried to order food (having nothing of note in the house, and too much pain currently to get down 3 flights of stairs about it) and the payment failed on just eat's end.

but it went through fine on my bank's end, so the funds are tied up in "pending"... for a week. my available balance is now 95p so i can't just do it again

the bank cannot typically do anything about this until the normal time frame for collection passes and they funds just release automatically. just eat have zero contactable customer service

but it is for FOOD and there's no more MONEY and i am a DISABLED CUSTOMER so BY FUCKING GOD not on zeeshan's watch

#i said i live by myself - which i do it's kind of the problem right now #so he's actually said 'i fully understand what you're going through so please know i'm here even if you just want to talk to someone #whilst i wait for a response from the product team'#like. ok king #i hope you can always find a pen when you need one and it always works

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starcurtain · 9 months

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One of my favorite things about the game's writing of Alhaitham and Kaveh:

The basic game text goes out of its way to convince us that the house is Alhaitham's--it is literally called "Alhaitham's Home" even during Kaveh's hangout.

But in-universe, we never see Alhaitham in his house unless Kaveh is there.

Throughout Sumeru's archon quests, we run into Alhaitham practically everywhere: in Port Ormos, in Aaru Village, in the Akademiya, at the Grand Bazaar. But never, despite the fact that the story wants to sell him as a homebody, in his own home. In fact, the only references we have to Alhaitham's house at all throughout the entire lead up of the archon quests are mentions of Kaveh.

Alhaitham doesn't suggest going there, doesn't ever go home himself (at least that we're explicitly told about) until the end of the archon quests, and has no cutscenes in his own house until Kaveh returns from the desert.

Then, all the sudden, Alhaitham literally can't wait to go home and walks off in the middle of a conversation.

From that point on, every time we're permitted to enter Alhaitham's house, in story quests, the hangout, and the event, it's either when he and Kaveh are together or with Kaveh alone.

Even during Alhaitham's birthday skit of all things, they went out of their way to tell us that Alhaitham's home, so of course Kaveh is there:

The map tag tells us the building is Alhaitham's Home, but the story reinforces a different idea:

It's Alhaitham's home when Kaveh is in it.

#genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #kaveh #alhaitham #the game really said #we're going to give you an area called Alhaitham's home #but he's never going to be there #except when his roommate is there #so whose house is it really #we have private conversations with Kaveh there #but not Alhaitham lmaooo #I'm not saying Kaveh is 9/10ths of Alhaitham's impulse control #but Kaveh left and Alhaitham said fuck it #I live in the back allies of Port Ormos now #the streets chose me!!

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confessedlyfannish · 19 days

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Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"