You sit alone atop the payload, wondering where your team could possibly be. You continue wondering and begin to wonder what exactly is this package that you are delivering and why. You have no answers. You never will.
You’re not quite sure who killed you until the kill cam comes on. It was the enemy widowmaker. She emotes. You feel shame within your soul. You were not careful enough. Next time, you will be wary. That is a lie. She will snipe you six more times. You are a failure.
You are the enemy widowmaker. There is a genji behind you. There is always a genji behind you. Where did he come from? Where did he go?
A robot sits in a corner. He is so alone. He waits. He waits. You come to play with him. He murders you brutally and beep beeps happily. Now you know why he was alone.
You are playing mercy.
You run to a health pack. mccree is there. symmetra’s turrets are there. Your mother is there. Everyone is there. You flee in terror. It was not to be. You must walk this road on the edge of death.
Your team arrives at the point first and prepares themselves for battle. On the horizon, you see them coming: junkrat, junkrat, junkrat, junkrat, junkrat, and hanzo. You were not mentally prepared for this many explosions. The point is now covered in fireballs. There is nowhere to run or hide.
You run up the staircase. It goes on forever. You were actually going down the staircase, then back up again, then back down. Or was there ever a staircase at all?
There is a hanzo on your team. you don’t remember where he came from or who chose him. he is omnipresent.
You try to befriend someone in a skirmish. You wave. You emote. They shoot you. There are no friends here.
You get five kills in a row. Torbjorn gets play of the game. He rides his turret in the intro. You shudder, his small bearded face filling you with a mixture of disgust and envy.
You open your loot box. Two zenyatta voice lines, a reinhardt spray, and a mei icon. It is always the same. The gods laugh. You will never have that legendary skin.
A merchant walked into the Ryugazaki castle “You’re majesty, you’re highness’” he bowed to the king and the two sons “I have a gift for you, from my slave trade.” He showed a beautiful blond male, his clothes sparkled, many bracelets and accessories on him, designs all along his body, but half his face was covered with a cloth. He looked up and made contact with once of the prince’s with the red glasses but he quickly looked away “My business went to the Middle East and we found a gift for you, he’s dressed quite differently from normal, but from where he’s from this is normal. Please do as you wish with him.”
This is a serious set of questions like, who makes the rules of discipline for the hypothetical vanguard party? Like who gets to decide what is and isn’t socialism? How does one come to deserve party authority? Does that authority grant one the power to force other people’s hands or make their decisions 4 them n why is that fair or preferable? (Keep in mind this is more toward like, deciding what other proles should do vs. like, taking the means of production from bourgies or like, dismantling capital. That already has a good justification so that’s not the decision making I’m takin abt)
like I’m just confused as to how you make a movement for liberation if you’re suppressing people in a similar situation 2 u? Like how does one tell other people what they need to think to free themselves without creating a contradiction? Like it seems like freedom necessitates agency and if you’re telling people how they need to act to be free idk I feel like that’s imposing too much, like they gotta figure that out for themselves and idk freedom probably looks different to different ppl and who are u to tell someone else what that looks like for them?
Like I’m really not trying to be cantankerous I just like, don’t get all that talk of repression or suppression or whatever it seems like, incredibly brutish and I don’t get how centralization and hierarchy is gonna serve people’s needs, like it can’t do that on a large scale people are way to diverse to implement global communism from the spear of one or even several big organizations. Like if that’s how communism comes about idk I don’t think it’ll turn out well
Sorry if this has been asked, but what is significant about Louis' shirts all having skulls on them? I know it's not a coincidence, I know there's a reason, but I'm failing to see the symbolism or metaphor or whatever? Hope you are well and had a good weekend so far! x
Well, there was this theory about it having to do with articles. And then there’s this: A skull is a symbol of nonconformity, free-thinking, rebelliousness, toughness, courage, bravery in the face of death and danger. I don’t think any of us know for sure, though. :)
I was just thinking about this the other day actually, but maybe PBG's gem could be a trapiche emerald? But like, cut as a triangle... with the dark lines inside forming a certain triangular symbol... because triforce...? B')
I think we have him as a Smokey Quartz (we choose this before that very fabulous gem made an appearance). But I do like that head cannon. We are very open too other ideas so feel free to think what you want!
hi i’m annie and i spend my free time thinking about how
fiona was an optional romance route
fiona confronted rhys directly about what she assumed was his crush on her sister
rhys is the only character that the player gets to choose the romance route for
regardless of whether rhys chose fiona or not at the end of their conversation, since rhys is the only one that gets to make that choice, she was already in love with him and player choices couldn’t change that
tldr fiona’s unchangeably in love and i hate my life
Mickey’s so deep into this shit that he can’t even remember a time before Ian, pre-Ian, before Ian. It’s just always been Ian. Being apart from Ian, as faggy as it sounds and he’ll never say it out loud, feels like he’s missing a large part of himself because it’s only when he’s with Ian that he really feels free. He thinks, that maybe, it’s the same for Ian too.
“Damn right.” He grins, flipping them over so he’s on top. He stares at Ian’s face for a really long time. It plays so many memories in his head down to the time that he first straddled the ginger’s chest with a tire iron above his head. This is a testament to how far they’ve gone—he isn’t snarling at anymore, but he’s smiling.