yo pjo fans come get your author what the fuck was that post about palestine and israel. (i say this as if I'm not also a fan of the series)
(Like on one hand I'm glad he recognizes it is a genocide and that the palestinians deserve to be free. But this entire section is horrid:
"The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.
Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them." )
^ yes that is the link to the post in question. I think you can already see a less than tasteful element to the post (which i actually just noticed)
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Often when trans women ask me when I'm performing next, and I tell them that it's a queer/trans event, they will tell me that they'd rather not go because they do not feel comfortable or safe in those spaces, that they have been dismissed or belittled at such events before. Even trans women who are dyke- or bisexual- identified often don't feel welcome or relevant in queer/trans spaces. And whenever a trans woman or ally points out aspects about the queer/ trans community that contribute to these feelings of irrelevancy and disrespect—such as the way our community coddles those who support trans-woman-exclusionist events or who make trans-misogynistic comments—we are described as being "divisive." This use of the word "divisive" is particularly telling, as it implies that "queer/trans" represents a uniform movement or community—a "oneness"—rather than an alliance where all voices are respected.
Julia Serano, Whipping Girl. Published 2007.
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Not Alastor making sure to first point at Husk with a warning expression before turning back to Charlie for his welcome home. This guy REALLY doesn't want Husk to say shit huh.
And Husk is obviously annoyed as hell (or judgmental? resigned? what is this expression exactly) but he joins the group hug anyway. Never change, Husk.
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Sans do you ever feel that something might be missing?
Maybe he felt like that at some point, maybe for a long time. In the present, I think he's made some kind of peace with it.
Also, I really like the ask blog format, but I don't really mean this to be an ask blog.
So when writing questions, try to refer them to me instead of the characters. That way, they don't have to break the fourth wall lmao. I really wanted to answer this one tho
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something the women in my family are absolutely flabbergasted by every time it comes up is the fact that i don’t own a scale.
“how do you know how much you weigh??” they cry.
“i don’t.” i simply respond.
“you look thinner, have you lost weight?” they ask at christmas.
“i dunno.” i say as i check on the turkey.
“you look bigger, have you gained weight?” they probe, as if my weight rests on their shoulders.
“i’m not sure, but it’s fine if i have.” i respond with a casualness they cannot comprehend.
“don’t you want to know if you’ve lost or gained?” they inquire over cups of coffee and a plate of untouched cookies.
“i do.” i take a sip. “which is why i don’t need to know.”
“we don’t understand.” they say.
“i’ll drive myself mad if i know. it’s been a question i’ve been looking for the answer to since i was in the seventh grade and my weight was the topic of conversation for the first time; the stretch marks on my calves puberty brought being questioned and condemned. and so i started weighing myself once a day. then twice a day. i gained weight as i grew and was told to stop. i got depressed when i was 16 and the weight i gained was more concerning than the scars on my thighs. the critiques turned to compliments during my first year of college when i’d started skipping meals and my body had to feed itself because i wouldn’t. everyday i stepped on the scale and smiled as i watched that number get smaller and smaller. hunger felt like victory. i started doing drugs that took away my appetite and then my strength. and started feeling guilt when my stomach felt full. and suddenly every time i looked in the mirror i hated what i saw. the more weight i lost, the better i was supposed to feel. each remark on another part of my body lost felt like a slap to the face. i was told i looked good but i knew i wasn’t good enough. and so i tried harder. and then i started to get dizzy when i stood. and i ignored it like i’d learned to ignore my hunger. and then one day at work i dropped like the weight that was never enough after i bending at the waist to grab a milk cap from the floor. and when the darkness faded, i was surrounded by panic as an ambulance was called. and then i was tested and prodded and poked because they thought something was wrong with my heart. and the problem persisted but they never found out why. but i’d known all along. and then i left home and its scale behind. and moved into a new home that was mine. so i bought plates and sheets and art for the walls. but i didn’t buy a scale. then every time i walked down an aisle i’d see the them and pause. and i’d think about the hunger i now kept at bay. and even though i didn’t know how much i weighed, i didn’t notice my body had changed. and i’d think about how i hadn’t been dizzy for months. and how i hadn’t fainted for longer. and then i’d keep on walking. and now most days i like how i look.”
“but don’t you want to be skinny?” comes their quiet response.
“i want to be myself in whatever body i have.”
they stare in disbelief. so i shrug my shoulders, and grab a cookie. and i smile at them as i swallow the first bite.
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Alastor is the funniest bitch in the show for that absolute buck wild song interruption by the way. Calling himself Dad while making the most unhinged, unblinking eye contact will never not make me keel over in laughter. Man snapped, he was so fucking mad for what??
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I guess that this is as good of a time as any to remind people that WRITERS MAKE THE STORY!!!! I cannot count how many times I see posts praising tv directors for things that are simply not their doing. That iconic line of dialogue? Yeah a screenwriter wrote that. The characters you love? Screenwriter. The places, the plot lines, the developments? Writers.
A show CANNOT happen without a script because a script is necessary for EVERYONE to do their job right. It dictates what set to look for/create, the filming schedule, the casting calls, the costumes and so on. It's not just words on a paper, its the backbone for all of production and it deserves to get recognised as the integral part of tv and film as it is.
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there's just... there is no reason to make yet another cop show in this day and age. copaganda is not only bullshit, it is a failure of imagination.
you want to watch brooding characters with dark pasts investigate crimes in an official capacity? just use private detectives (cops have a miserable solve rate anyway). want eccentric geniuses & their sidekicks solving mysteries? i present you with armchair detectives & neighborhood busybodies. oh, you're craving a workplace comedy-drama starring overworked protagonists doing their heartfelt best to resolve community conflicts? social worker office sitcom! bitch this is ACHIEVABLE
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