#Externalisation

[mysterycitrus]

the fanon that dick was awful to his successors — being abusive to jason or mean to tim — is very funny to me because he categorically handled being replaced better than either of them did

[sunset-motel]

I mean this with the utmost love, but seeing everyone’s ocs who have the maelstrom style eye cyberware (or who date someone who does….)

all I can think of is them waking their partner up in the middle of the night with a flashbang of red light...literally this:

[chronicowboy]

i'm like. absolutely certain. that one of the justifications in buck buckley's fucked up freakazoid psyche about why he can't possibly be in love with eddie in anyway that is decidedly not romantic is because he's convinced that part of him wants eddie to be his dad so badly. like he's watching eddie with chris, loving him so unconditionally and picking himself up off the floor to try again and again every time he falls down, and he's looking at chris going god i wish that were me. he's like dad id like to have ❌NOT❌ dad i'd like to fuck no sir!!! meanwhile eddie uses his dad voice on him and he's dangerously close to getting pavloved into a semi every time eddie talks to christopher.

[lesbitching]

it’s nowhere near the worst interpretation and i do understand how it could be assumed or even be compelling if you’re very interested in the lords in black but one of my biggest pet peeves is the interpretation that the lords in black are manipulating grace and deliberately driving her to where she ends up the entire play. such a big part of what makes grace work is her role as the driving force in the play, an active agent who’s actions directly lead to all the calamity and tragedy that occurs later through sheer religious guilt, desperation and neuroticism. taking even some of that autonomy away from her makes her significantly less compelling.

[thedansemacabres]

possibly controversial opinion, however, I am extremely wary of how people in witchy & pagan spaces are beginning to spiritualise ‘inner child work’. For those unknowing, inner child is a psychotherapy & IFS concept that seeks to provide therapy via metaphorical ‘parts’—the idea is that all of us have ‘parts’ that operate like a family unit. I won’t go into too much detail because I myself am not a licensed therapist, my biological mother is, but overall I am extremely wary of people trying to recommend courses/spells/rituals for a psychotherapy model especially without the guidance of someone actually trained in this. IFS can do serious damage even with a trained therapist, so why is it becoming a practice people are pushing as necessary in some spiritual spaces?

[kindaorangey]

obviously it's always a little cringe when showrunners of the older generation make episodes of tv about social media but for miraculous season 6 i actually think it's fucking genius. what other theme could be a better representation of marinette feeling hyper-observed and terrified of choosing what she does or does not share with other people in light of the hawk moth secret??

[nintendont2502]

forever fucking thinking about hal's name reverting back to ar when he became part of arquius

[flow2024]

I wish you would write a fic about irreconcilable artistic differences on a movie set between Joe and Nicky.

not really irreconciliable as in not solvable at all but you know i had fun with this

Joe squeezes his eyes shut, covering his face with both hands, and leans forward. His shoulders tremble uncontrollably. He takes a short, sharp breath, and another, and another, but he can’t quite seem to get enough into his lungs. There’s a lump in his throat and a weight in his stomach. He leans forward with a low, wounded sound and–

“Cut,” Nicky says softly. Then, because it takes Joe a second to hear him: “Joe, stop.”

Slowly, Joe raises his head. Wipes at his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. Nicky’s already up, frowning ever so slightly as he looks at the camera. 

“What is it this time?” Joe manages. His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat once or twice. Nicky doesn’t look up. The clock on the nightstand reads 01.34, but Nicky’s changed it a few times over the course of the shoot. He has no clue what time it really is, only that it’s dark outside.

It’s just the two of them in the room. Nicky had wanted to keep this one small, just him and Joe and the camera. The apartment they’re in is nice, if a little empty, though Joe supposes that’s the point. They’re in the bedroom, Joe sitting cross-legged on the bed, shirtless, sheets bunched up over his lap, a phone lying on the nightstand behind him. One entire wall of the room is taken up by a floor-to-ceiling window which lets the moonlight in, though there’s a few low lights set up behind Nicky to send bars of silver light across the bed, because the natural light hadn’t quite been strong enough for the effect Nicky wanted. It’s otherworldly; it’s beautiful. 

Nicky still isn’t looking at him, so Joe says again, “What?” It comes out a little harsher than he means it to, but it gets Nicky’s attention.

Nicky runs one hand through his hair. Joe can’t see him well, not with the light behind him and the shadows in the room. “I don’t know,” Nicky says. “It’s missing something.”

Joe has worked with Nicky enough times before. It’s not that he doesn’t like working with him - they’re friends - but he can’t fucking read him, and so after the sixth take of the same scene he can’t help but take it a little personally. 

Joe reaches for the bottle of water hidden just under the bed and takes a long drink, mostly to keep himself from snapping. What time is it? “I can try again, but I can’t do this indefinitely, Nicky.”

“I know, I know,” Nicky says, fidgeting again with the camera, “it’s not you, it’s just–” 

“What else could it be?” Joe interrupts. He’s not stupid. This scene doesn’t work if he can’t get it right, which means the entire film doesn’t work if he can’t get it right. More than anything else, this one depends on him. No music, no camera movement, no dialogue, nothing but him and the camera. And he wants to do it right, he loves this project almost as much as Nicky does, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest and he’s spent the last however-many-hours having a near-complete breakdown over and over again and it’s still not right. And Joe doesn’t know what it is he’s doing wrong.

“I don’t know,” Nicky says quietly. Now he is looking at Joe, and Joe can’t tell if he’s disappointed, or angry, or – or what. He’s perfectly expressionless, as always. 

Joe loves this job. And he wants to get this right. But it doesn’t mean it’s not one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, and he’s tired.

“I don’t have much more left in me, Nicky,” he says, and this time he does snap. He wipes at his eyes again, can’t look at Nicky. He’s supposed to be making himself vulnerable, above all in this scene, but suddenly he can’t stand the way Nicky’s looking at him. “Pass me my hoodie.”

“Joe–”

“I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.” He kicks the sheets off and gets tangled trying to do it, grabs his hoodie when Nicky offers it, pulls it over his head in one fluid motion and gets out of there as soon as he can. Thankfully, there’s only Andy and Nile in the other room, Andy lying back on the couch with her feet up and Nile perched on the arm of it. They both look up at Joe as he enters, both look like they’re about to ask, and Joe can’t stand it, can’t be in here a second longer, can’t–

“We are done for the day, I think,” Nicky says behind him, startling Joe. He hadn’t realised Nicky was there.

Andy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. It’s already the second day of trying to shoot this scene: they’re running the risk of falling behind schedule. 

“We’ll find something else to do tomorrow,” Nicky says. “I’ll look over everything tonight. We will try this again on Monday.”

Andy and Nile look at each other. Nile shrugs. 

“Get some rest, Joe,” Nicky says. 

Joe shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t say a word.

–--------------------------------

He doesn’t get called in the next day at all, and he doesn’t interrogate it too closely. Takes the day off, pretty much, because they’ve only really got one scene left to film, and there’s not much more he can do for that. Nicky had wanted to leave it to the last, and Joe had agreed, at the time.

At about nine pm, someone knocks on his hotel room door, which is unusual on a day where they don’t have a night shoot to do. When he opens it, Nicky is on the other side. Joe lets him in without a word. 

“I wanted to apologise,” Nicky says, standing in the middle of the room and looking as uncomfortable as Joe’s ever seen him. “For last night. I was pushing you too hard, and I should not have done.”

Joe closes the door behind him. Nicky fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“Sit down,” Joe says. 

Nicky does, settling himself on the edge of Joe’s bed, not quite looking him in the eye. Joe joins him, after a moment. 

“At the risk of sounding cliche,” Nicky says, “it’s not you, it’s me.”

Joe laughs, mostly because the phrase sounds so strange coming from Nicky and also because out of everything he’d thought Nicky might say, he hadn’t expected that. 

Nicky smiles slightly, too. Then he gets up and heads for the minibar. “Mind if I have a drink?”

Joe shakes his head. Nicky gets out a little bottle of wine, glances at the label, and takes a swig straight from the bottle without bothering to get a glass. 

“I can’t seem to get it right,” Nicky says. “You know I wrote almost fifteen different versions of that scene?”

The scene in the script itself is barely a page long. “No,” Joe says. 

Nicky nods. Rubs a hand over his face. “I wanted it to feel real. I thought if I could get it right, it would… help, somehow. I don’t know.”

It’s the exact same reason Joe said yes before he even read the script, when the whole thing was just an idea in Nicky’s head, when they were talking about it over drinks at Andy’s and Joe was in love with the idea almost immediately. He knew exactly why Nicky was writing it; he knows, now, exactly why it needs to be right. But at the same time – “I don’t know if that’s possible, Nicky.”

Nicky sighs. “I know.” He crosses back over to sit beside Joe again, takes another drink from the bottle. “But there is something missing, and I cannot seem to find it. And so it does not feel real. And I know this is not easy for you.”

“It’s not,” Joe says plainly. 

“But you know,” Nicky continues, “I could not have trusted anyone with this but you. If you had not said yes, I would not have done this.”

That, Joe didn’t know: he knows he’d been Nicky’s first choice, but he’d assumed that’s because they know each other well enough already. But it makes sense: the reason Nicky wrote the script is the same thing they’d bonded over. 

Even still, it’s a lot. “I don’t know if I can do it the way you want,” Joe says. 

Nicky looks up at him from where he’s been running his fingers over the label on the bottle absentmindedly. “If you want to stop, I can–”

“No,” Joe says quickly. “But I don’t think it’s ever going to be exactly the way you felt.”

Nicky looks away. “It is a lot to ask,” he says. “I know this.”

Joe doesn’t think; just reaches over and takes Nicky’s hand. “I know,” he says. “Trust me.”

Nicky takes a deep breath. Then he nods. "Okay."

[farosdaughter]

“Coryo only cared about Lucy Gray’s survival for his own selfish reasons”

Coryo thinking about Lucy Gray’s survival:

Before any thought of his own well-being or the incumbent threat of his family’s imminent homelessness, comes Coryo’s desire to help Lucy Gray survive the Games. Those worries don’t negate the sincerity of his intentions towards Lucy Gray, just like Katniss cared both about the survival of her family and keeping Peeta alive. Personal, ‘selfish’ needs can and do coexist with altruistic ones in most people. Not to mention that Snow being willing to do anything to ensure his and his family’s survival doesn’t scream villainous mastermind. He’s an underdog whose only concern is staving off hunger and doing a good enough job to achieve some sense of security.

His determination to keep Lucy Gray alive is born out of gratitude, honor as well as selfless love. Coryo’s motivation here is entirely altruistic: he risks everything he has at stake (his reputation, his chance to save his family from ignominy and hunger, his entire future) to give Lucy Gray a bigger chance at survival.

If it had only been a matter of getting the Plinth money, he would’ve focused all his efforts on endearing himself to the Plinths (as he ends up doing at the end of the story). On the contrary, violating the Academy rules and basically challenging the purpose of the Hunger Games could only result in Coryo’s fall from grace.

It’s not the cheating itself, but the circumstance that he did so for the love of one of the tributes that lands Coryo in exile. If he’d cheated simply to show off or for any other selfish reason, you can bet his punishment wouldn’t have been as extreme. Dr Gaul sees how having a soft spot for Lucy Gray will eventually compromise his allegiance to the Capitol: it’s one mistake that cannot be tolerated in the future elite of Panem.

[divorceblogger]

at the end of the day rhaenyra will always pick playing a Man over everything else because her frame of reference for powerful people are the men in her life who abused everybody and never had to reckon with the constraints of the gender binary the way she was forced to. or punished so severely because of their gender either. I wished they’d given her armour and a haircut too but that’s ok we can still work with daemon’s warbraid and weird imperial targcest gender identity.

[mysterycitrus]

i will now be rotating "truly believing he has created a weapon in robin that bruce will use to hurt other children without consequence" in my mind for A period of time

welcome to my brainrot

[namusass]

you know that one scene in hannibal where will goes to a church and theres a dead guy who hannibal turned into an anatomically correct heart just for will?

thats how thada feels about armin i think.

[bastam]

Misery (1990) / Counterpoint (1967)

[paranormeow7]

oh my god I watched the substance. I actually have coherent thoughts to share about this one right now, but mostly WOW. honestly that and I saw the tv glow were some of the most powerful, wonderful movies I’ve seen in my life. I don’t think I can watch any other movies now because I’ve seen peak. ANYWAYS. the substance got me thinking. there are several more people that use the substance for their personal lives that aren’t in the public eye, like Elisabeth/Sue. Including the nurse that initially led her to try it, a lot of those who use are just regular people living their day to day lives. It really got me thinking, how many other people destroyed themselves like Elisabeth, but in complete silence, without any eyes on them, all alone? Would Monstro Elisasue’s very public debut ever be traced back to this black market drug and its more covert, low profile users? Maybe there were many more cases like this, puddles of gore found in neglected apartments or office bathrooms, that nobody was able to figure out until the airing of the New Year’s Eve show. And most of all, it’s cynical but ironic that out of everyone else who could’ve suffered the same fate, Elisabeth had it the best (if that’s even what you can call it). Out of all of these people who fell to pieces all on their own, being forgotten at worst and becoming a puzzle at best, Elisabeth at least got to let the masses see what they did to her.

[gouinisme]

they met at the door between the world below and the world above, they met at the line between hell and earth, they met at the moment mark had to choose between life and death. they met at the fucking equator. i'm gonna kill someone about this show i swear

[tbspiritss]

Wheelchair users are moving.

Whether it's self propelling in a manual wheelchair, using the controls on a power chair, driving a mobility scooter? Wheelchair users are moving.

I've been on a tough journey today. Realising that my manual wheelchair isn't enough. But yknow what I noticed?

My ableism towards power chair users.

You see I thought that a power chair user wasn't really moving, the chair was. Until I pictured myself using that tool.

Why did it have to take my realisation that a power chair would help ME for me to see power chair users in a different light?

I was separating the chair from the user, even when I started using my own manual wheelchair. I saw power chairs as inherently different from manual chairs.

This even manifested in how I think about my own movement. Instead of moving, I thought about self propelling as "moving myself". That wording frames different forms of movement as lesser than others.

They are not.

Society has told us that walking is the only acceptable form of movement. It is not.

However you need to move, you should move. Whether you are on your feet, pushing wheels, or pressing buttons or using a joystick, you are moving. You are making those movements happen, no matter what way you're making the wheels go round.

Wheelchair users move. Just like everyone else.