#i keep singing this to myself

[tvs-coach]

"I’m Sure Livin’ Since I Died" from Spitting Image, Series 6 Episode 1.

[witchblade]

you make me feel worthless

[marklikely]

i am so fucking sick of the chokehold this video has had on my brain for the last two days

[cappycodeart]

he’s infiltrated my sketchbook too i’m not safe here anymore

[oniomn]

the siblings are on a road trip!!!!

ty @witchstormm for the little comic idea <33

[slavhew]

And I just have to tell you that I

Love you so much these days,

[federaliszt]

punishment whump

defiant prisoner whumpee who gets rescued while they're being punished for something.

the whumpee was already having a very bad time of it in captivity, but then they had to go and lead a prisoner insurrection or make an escape attempt or try to send a message to the outside world or spat in their captor's face or whatever or all of the above.

so now the Whumper(s) is/are pissed AF about it and have selected something extra special to get whumpee to learn their lesson...

so when the team arrives to rescue them, it's at the moment of peak brutality and agonizing pain, where the formally strong and stoic whumpee is reduced to just a sad trembling mess, shaking and sobbing and pleading (even if only silently in their own mind) for it to stop.

....and they're so exhausted and hazy-headed and relieved to have any respite at all from the pain that it takes them a long while to even realize that their captivity is over.

[coquelicoq]

justice of toren collecting songs and one esk/breq constantly humming/singing them is such a good detail and ann leckie does so much with it. an incomplete list:

justice of toren's eager collection of songs is part and parcel of its violent destruction of cultures: these songs are cultural artifacts that it only learns because of its presence on those worlds during their conquest, and in many cases breq is the only one to remember them because their people have died out due to that violence. JoT preserves cultural artifacts for its own use at the same time it directly contributes to the need for that preservation in the first place.

the matter-of-fact way in which this is narrated to us gives us information about JoT's stance on respect and imperialism - that is, contrasted with other characters who look down on the conquered cultures, JoT does actually seem to appreciate their value. and yet it communicates to us no sense of remorse over its role in their genocide.

singing can be a communal activity. this allows us to feel the difference between one esk's multiple bodies singing together in harmony/in a round vs. breq singing alone. this has emotional weight, is an evocative image, and illustrates quite nicely some of the logistic considerations of having one vs. multiple bodies.

the constant humming/singing is extremely notable and idiosyncratic according to other characters, which is a dangerous combination for someone who's supposed to be undercover, so it adds a lil bit of fun suspense for us.

the fact that no one ever figures out breq's identity despite this giveaway tells us something about the other characters' attitudes towards artificial intelligences (though see below about seivarden).

the fact that it's so idiosyncratic also tells us something about the ability of individual AIs to have personalities that distinguish them from other AIs, and the fact that one esk sings constantly but two esk doesn't tells us something about the ability of different ancillary decades that are all part of the same AI to have distinguishing characteristics. this is very relevant to, and illustrative of, the series' thematic throughlines around identity, personality, continuity, etc.

the fact that breq personally has a bad voice also serves multiple purposes. because breq and seivarden both believe that the medic could have chosen a body with a good voice if she had wanted to, we can infer something about how ancillary bodies work, how much the AI (and, by extension, its medics) knows about the individual capabilities of those bodies while they're in suspension, and what kinds of things the AI can and can't control once it has unfrozen and taken over a body.

we can also draw conclusions about the medic that chose that body and about intracrew relations on that ship.

breq's bad voice creates moments of humor and irony in the narrative, such as when breq's constant singing - aka the most obvious clue that she is one esk - is precisely what makes seivarden so sure that breq can't be one esk, because no esk medic would use a body with a bad voice for an ancillary.

constant singing/humming imposes itself on the shared soundscape, meaning other people can't easily avoid it and it has the potential to annoy them, especially if the voice itself has annoying qualities. the reactions of other characters to the frequency and/or quality of this verbal tic tells us something about the level of affection those characters have for one esk or breq.

because singing involves words, the meaning of the lyrics being sung can be used to advance the plot, communicate things about specific characters, create irony in juxtaposition with what's happening on the page, etc.

i especially like what's done with the lyric "it all goes around". it's woven throughout the story in such a way as to manifest its own meaning (the repetition of "it all goes around" is, itself, an example of something going around). by repeating the lyric, breq is the one making it true, and i would argue that her repetition of this particular lyric about things orbiting other things contributes to, and/or is a sign of, her growing understanding of the necessity/reality of interdependence and her place in that framework/her role in constructing it, or in other words, the extent of her own agency and the rights and obligations it confers upon her.

because the singing/humming is a constant, background, automatic action, it only ceases when breq is experiencing a strong emotion. from this we are able to infer things about the emotional state of our famously-omits-details-about-her-emotional-state narrator based on other characters' comments about whether or not she is currently doing this thing.

we also aren't even aware that breq is doing it constantly until another character says so. on a narrative level, this serves the dual purpose of making sure we know about how much she hums AND of reminding us that she's not telling us everything.

the humming is not mentioned constantly even though it is happening constantly - this helps us forget in between mentions that it's going on while also simultaneously reinforcing just how constant it must be, so constant that to mention it every time it happens would be like narrating every time she breathes in or out. whenever someone brings it up, we are reminded anew that something has been happening all along that we forgot about. this means that ann leckie is able, by leaving information out, to hammer home to us how much we are not being told.

through this one character trait, ann leckie efficiently and elegantly communicates not just aspects of character but also of setting, plot, tone, theme, and narrative. there's no extraneous exposition just to tell us about the song collection or singing; everything that tells us about it is serving other functions in the narrative as well. the ways in which she manifests this one character trait in the universe and in the narrative contribute to and exemplify both the story itself and the method of its telling.

[good-beanswrites]

And all of trial two has been added to Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins!!! I hope you enjoy the Deep Cover addition 🐺

Kotoko’s face was somewhere between disgust and disappointment as she watched the prisoners put on the worst performance she’d ever seen. 

Fuuta writhed around on the ground, making clawing motions at himself and the floor. He was nudged away by Yuno, who was making odd growling sounds from her hunched over position.

“I think it’s a bit more like,” Kazui clutched at his chest, “like, aaaargh!”

“No, no, you’re doing it all wrong!” Mikoto moved beside him and tried his hand at the scene. 

Wanting to be included, Mahiru let out a long howl. Haruka and Muu joined in.

Just because Kotoko had never seen a classic werewolf movie didn’t mean she needed a demonstration, but the others hadn’t really given her a choice. It was necessary preparation, they said. Jackalope had made the mistake of leaving them alone before her filming was set to start, and they jumped at the opportunity immediately.

Kotoko crossed her arms. “Isn’t this all a bit…cheesy?” 

Mikoto looked up from where he’d bent himself into an awkward shape. “Cheesy? This is a horror movie staple!”

“Exactly.” She let her gaze drift away from meeting any eyes. “This isn’t meant to be like the movies. This is… this is real.”

While others continued their cries of transformational agony, Mahiru made her way over. 

“I understand.”

Kotoko had to hold back a scoff. She was probably the last person here who understood. Mahiru didn’t have a mean bone in her body – there was no way knew what it meant to feel a monster’s worth of violence and anger bubbling up inside of her. She could never know the pain of filming alongside that wonderful young girl, haunted by the fact that she’d cower away if she ever knew the truth. In fact, all of her fellow prisoners would cower away if they knew the violence that had simmered within her all her life. 

“It’s fine, Mahiru. I just think everyone should stop fooling around.”

But she would not be deterred. Over her shoulder, Fuuta was encouraging Amane to let out the loudest growl she could. Mahiru was unfazed as held Kotoko’s gaze. “I mean it. I’ve been there. Sometimes, there’s parts of ourselves that get out of control. Things that we see in the movies, and it’s alright there… but in real life…” her smile weakened. “In real life, those parts of us really hurt people. I’m here to tell you you’re not a monster for those things.”

Kotoko gaped at her. If Jackalope wanted a shot of her shocked, he should have kept the cameras rolling. 

Before she could muster up any reply, Mahiru grabbed her hand and dragged her forward.

“Now come on, let’s see your cheesiest werewolf acting! Awooooooo!”

[titsthedamnseason]

since i haven’t pissed off enough people today i’ll say something else. i’m actually not a fan of surprise song mashups and i’m glad this wasn’t a thing when it was my show

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i think one of the main things i've always loved about singers is the way they can just let go and sing as loud as they want and you can hear it in their voice, how unhindered they are and how much practice it must have taken to get to be able to control their voice like that

meanwhile i am one of the quietest people on earth that struggles to speak up to a hearable volume, or sometimes can't speak at all, even if i really want to

and hearing them be able to do that, inside it makes me kind of feel how they must feel, what kind of release that must be to just let all of that out

i always feel some kind of second-hand feeling from it in my chest when i hear them do it and it makes me want to do it too

[its-yashas-strong-arms]

cw for discussing salary and budgeting

i'm supposed to be getting a job offer later this month to transfer into the company I've been working for this past year. and i know i'm getting the offer and it'll probably be decent since i'm in tech at a big corporate bank, but this will set the baseline for my salary and growth potential for the next couple years and I'm nervous. i got debts to pay off, you know? plus i have a male friend who got in last year with fewer credentials than i do and he's told me how much he makes, and i have another male friend whose level of expertise is similar to mine who should get his offer this week, and seeing how my offer compares to theirs is going to set the standard for my opinion on this company going forward.

idk I'm just yelling my anxieties into the void thanks for listening <3

[yanderespamton78]

when someone compliments your singing one (1) time and now you spend time practising singing and cannot sing without overthinking how you sound

[youngpettyqueen]

oh god if I was La'an and I heard the music start while I was feeling sad about a man I would've started SPRINTING to my quarters

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

(ao3)

The worst thing, Bad knows, is the way that nothing changes. 

The clouds move slow across the sky, gentle giants on an eternal trek. The waters dance with fish; the brooks burble and sing. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. 

On, and on, and on, and on. 

Bad breathes in, slow, and holds it. 

It’s enough to go mad over. To become enraged for. To rip everything down just so that everything can match the- the keening lack in his heart. Grass grows. Grass has always grown. There is nothing that could ever stop grass from growing. 

His hands are curled into the ground at his sides. He clutches handfuls of the wretched plant and pulls, almost gently, and doesn’t snap a single blade.

He exhales, slow, and doesn’t inhale again. What point is there? He’s alone. No one will know whether or not he needs to breathe. He’s been alone before- days that Dapper doesn’t wake up, days where the other eggs are with their other parents. Days where he falls asleep in his chair and the ghosts are left to amuse themselves. He’s been alone before. 

He’s lost before. 

There is a sob in his throat. He refuses to let it out. It chokes him, and he takes another deep breath to try to settle it. 

There’s always- he misses Skeppy. Of course he misses Skeppy. He can’t lose Skeppy, but Skeppy isn’t here.

Dapper isn’t here. Pomme isn’t here. Richarlyson. Leo. Ramon. Chayanne. Tallulah. They’re-

Bad tears the grass out of the ground. He stares at his hands, dark claws curled around torn green plant. He tries to imagine the grass is white fur instead, but he can’t find the enthusiasm. That’s okay. The anger will be back later. 

He just- he can’t feel much beyond the loss, right now. The lack. The empty, quiet island where sheep eat grass and clouds keep moving and no eggs place any signs at all. That’s not okay, but he knows that, at least, will change. That’s how grief works. The world ends, and you end with it, and while you claw yourself up from the rubble the world ends again and sends you back under, and then again, and then again, but by the third go around you know what the tremors look like. You start to predict where it hurts the most. Then the world keeps ending but the ending just becomes a part of your world, and sometimes everything shakes but you shake with it and it’s not okay but it’s better. You get so used to the shaking that sometimes you forget that your world ever ended at all. 

How long will it take for him to forget them? 

Bad leans forwards, slowly, until he slumps into a miserable little puddle of limbs. He presses his cheek into the cool grass and when the sob rises up again he bites it back with teeth. The sun is blocked by a sombrero, now fallen awkwardly over his face, that Foolish had cheerfully placed on his head hours before. Bad doesn’t know why Foolish had put it there- except he does, and he’d seen it in the in the slightest tremor of Foolish’s smile, and so he’d kept it on. 

He can’t see them, but he can hear them laughing. Mouse, Jaiden, and Foolish, just around the corner. There have been so many people ‘just around the corner’ today. They’re so loud. They’re not the right type of loud. He feels guilty for the way that they’re comforting him, that he’s taking up their time, and then he feels angry that he feels guilty because he remembers the cage, and he knows what he really means to them, and-

They’re still here. The eggs are gone, and they’re still here. 

Forever isn’t here. 

Forever hasn’t given him a gift basket yet. 

…

…It doesn’t work. It’s a close thing, though- there’s a flicker of irritation at the thought of Forever’s awful, handsome face. Not anger, not nearly enough emotion to fill the void that is Bad’s heart, but maybe it could be. He’ll try again tomorrow. Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that something? There’s so much emotion he can’t feel any of it at all. 

Maybe it’s a bad dream. There were no remains. There was just Dapper’s top hat, and Pomme’s beret. No shell, no dead eggs. No eggs. It’s driving him mad, the maybe-yes maybe-no nature of his children’s fate.

He thinks, maybe, that tomorrow he will build a drill. 

Today, the world is dark beneath the sombrero, and the grass is scratchy and full of small twigs. Foolish laughs once, too loud. Automatically, Bad pushes himself up, because he knows Foolish, and knows how long he’s been away from the group, and he feels sick. He fumbles for his warpstone and- Foolish’s head pops around the corner- Bad freezes. Too late. 

Foolish looks at him, grin bright and neverending. Bad looks back. He can’t bring himself to say anything- he drops the sombrero at their feet. 

Foolish’s smile fades. Bad activates his warpstone again and, though the particles, he sees Foolish give him a sharp, left-handed salute. Bad can’t bite back his little laugh; Foolish knows him, too.

And then Foolish is gone. The world is purple. Then the world ends, once again, in Bad’s home. All of Dapper’s machines have stopped. Echoing noise to almost-echoing silence. Ah. Right. None of the island’s machines are working correctly. Bad will have to make a smaller drill. But he will build his drill, and he will dig, and he will find his son. 

“Dapper?” he calls, his voice cracking. The sound echoes. Only the animals answer back- they’re the only thing that stops the base from being completely silent. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. There’s so many animals here. What good company. It occurs to Bad, suddenly, that they’re good company. Dapper is gone, and his animals are still here, and Bad- 

He won’t kill Dapper’s pets. He is suddenly holding his scythe and he won’t hurt his son’s pets because he can’t trade them for his son and there’s a special sort of heartache to the fact that his son left behind instructions to machines that don’t work and so many animals that can’t keep Bad company the way Dapper kept him company and Bad- 

He’s holding his scythe. He’s holding the Sunshine Protector. He tries to take a breath but it comes out stuttery and he bites his tongue and. Dapper was-is always so sweet. He made Bonnie to keep Bad company, and Bad is always haunted by little ghosts but now most of all he is haunted by the love of his son. 

“Where are you?” His voice cracks on the third word. He stumbles to Dapper’s room and doesn’t think about the fact that they never got to build one for Pomme.  

The hole in his heart could swallow an island. 

Please don’t take- 

The scythe gets left outside. Bad can’t bear to look at it. Protector. There is a secure door in front of him that keeps nothing secure because now there is nothing to protect and Bad- 

-my sunshine away. 

He falls to his knees next to the empty bed. He chokes out, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Dapper.”

When the sob rises again, he lets it.

[lulue-xie]

I think I will have no voice left tomorrow 🥲

I am tired of being sick