theyre gonna start calling me the joker (even tho my birthname is harley) bc im a clown and im on a bomb/nuclear war hyperfixation
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theyre gonna start calling me the joker (even tho my birthname is harley) bc im a clown and im on a bomb/nuclear war hyperfixation

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whenever i write about characters that are in any way linked to the military, i try to insist on how fucking awful the military is, how it preys on people, how itās the result of a lifetime of propaganda, how it kills because of political or economical interests, and how itās never, and i say NEVER noble or heroic.
there is nothing beautiful about war and/or about being a professional of the murder machine TM and i want everyone that follows me to know where i stand about that matter
any take on b100 Karkat?
he didnāt wait for a draft. he enlisted, as soon as he could, began his training immediately. he shot for general, from the first step he took in the recruitment office, answered their questions with answers that made their stiff lips twitch up in almost a smile, walked the halls with his back ramrod straight and lifted his weapon with precision that came from training for hundreds of hours before even enlisting. he did exactly what he was told, and he did it well.
if not for the injury, he would have been able to rise in combat. if not for the injury, he would have been so much more.
but he was injured. not severe enough to discharge him, but enough he was placed on desk-duty. executions. threshcutioner vantas, work that stalled his career and saved no dignity in his personal life, though on paper it was the most humane position he could be given.
he stalled. he was empty. his dream, his ambition, the only one he had, was gone. where before he was climbing ranks from digging trenches to leading small battalions, taking over entire coastlines or cities, now he had to bow to the whims of a cultist clown, who referred to his career as a stint in the military. he wanted to kill them all, but he couldnāt.
he couldnāt even hope to rise.
stalled in a system only keeping him alive out of nostalgic appreciation of his abilities, he was left to thinking much more than before. left to wondering. he heard the snickered insults the other trolls, those still in active duty, would whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, what a useless blue. he should do the empire a favor and end it.
he became bitter. he became resentful. he felt heat under his skin and bile in his throat, and had to clench his teeth to keep his no-longer useful shouting at bay, to stop from slamming them to the wall and snarling I gave sweeps of my life doing more than youāll do in yours! Iāll fucking kill you!Ā
he hated them. hated the system. hated how every clerk at his work, every single troll he interacted with, was either being killed before him or acting like doing their motherfucking duties was a public service and they were unpaid stewards of the common good. I gave my fucking life to this godsawful planet, look me in the eyes!
rage burned hot in his stomach, a heavy coal that made him stomp and bare his teeth at anyone who looked at him twice, made him vengeful. how dare they, tossing him aside, letting him rot? how dare they deny him the reparative operations to let him return to work. tell him theyāre for generals. you canāt just ignore me.
the empire is a many-limbed beast, with organs on the outside and a wide open throat, and he knows the paths to take to reach it. he knows what he can do. the rebels, the small, weak group of trolls about his age daring to try and instate a tyrian of their personal choice, to create some facsimile of democracy, take him in with open arms. we canāt give you the operation. we donāt know how. but you can tell us what to do, and when the empire is ours, youāll be the general.
he lays his plans on the table, his stiff, unmoving leg straight out under the table, the smallest thing that destroyed him. I donāt fucking want it.
i just watched a 5 minute clip on Japanās preparations of nuclear attacks by North Korea. In the comment sections, people are going: OH IF NORTH KOREA TRIES ANYTHING AMERICA WILL DESTROY THEM LMAO
do they not realise that the people of North Korea are not responsible for what their country does... they all live in fear and desperately try to evacuate north korea constantly. so i get that youāre happy that america willĀ ākick north koreaās buttā if there is a potential nuclear war, but just know that, kicking north koreaās butt means the torture of thousands upon thousands upon thousands of innocent men, women, children, who have nothing to do with this. Just like Syria.Ā

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heās devoted, more than many, more than most. clowns are not always gifted with good, entertaining abilities, and he is no exception. the walls he builds are sturdy and strong, and it can be said that itās an art, he doesnāt call himself an artist. strong walls make for a strong compound, make for a strong imperial fleet.
he was conscripted before he even pupated, picked for being large and obedient, placed into fast-lane schoolfeeds to give him more time to train. with no mental abilities beyond a knack for mathematics, he had to work twice as hard, or, at least, he told himself that. better to be even stronger, he thought. strength and stamina would win, eventually, over will and cleverness.
he earned his face quickly, a new mark for every broken nose, a new shape for every dislocated jaw. when he could defend himself, he earned them even faster.
the war was brutal; it was war. he wished he could forget it, but the fact that his fleet was full of voodoo users prevented it, beyond the church doctrine forbidding it. he prayed forgiveness for wanting to forget. he prayed to forget anyway, hoping that as some small boon he might be given the ease to sleep without dayterrors and visions of his friends as they passed.
knowing they would go to an endless carnival didnāt help when he remembered them beg him not to let them die. the users sharing his sleeping block would force him to dream with them, even when he didnāt otherwise.
he never intended to take the throne; never angled for anything, after he was put in reserve, but to stay there, and keep patching the walls, and keep following the scripture as it was laid out to him. never intended to do much more than hope he either died young or lived long enough to forget.
thereās a saying among clowns, plans for anything are plans for tragedy; itās melancholy, and he never ascribed to it, but it was true. the highblood took an interest in him; something about reminding them of themself when they were his age, and called him their usurper before he even managed to meet them, before his faulty prosthetic would let him finish kneeling.
what? he tried not to sound as angry as he was. I-I donāt, I donāt think I can, my highblood.
they laughed, a wicked laugh that made his pan feel molten-wet. I didnāt ask you, equius. I was informing you. Iāve read the signs in the stars. youāre taking my seat.Ā they laughed again, when he fainted, and he woke up with it ringing in his ears.
his legs hurt, though only one of them could. tragedy and comedy work together; he imagined them both laughing at him, at his rage and pain and tears, and tried to stop believing, but couldnāt. he was theirs, they were his. praying for the will of the gods to stop favoring you was ridiculous, anyway.
he just hoped he would rest when he took the blood throne. until then, he would patch the walls, and pray to forget, and pray the highblood would die easily for him. he had seen so much death; at least this one would be remembered.
about the zaryaĀ āhatingā orisa post, remember that zarya lives in a country that was attacked by omnics and is currently being annihilated by them
ofc thatās not orisaās fault, orisa is a good bean, and most omnics we know are good people. but remember that regular people in the overwatch world donāt know about god programs.
so please, donāt judge zarya or other characters forĀ āhatingā omnics. some of them literally lost their whole country and millions of people to them
I feel so ooey gooey about my besties (chupipi and bestie bestie). I just like the supportive working together energy and trust.
I like that someone else wants to assure my chupipi that they don't have to be one thing all the time to be loved.
I like that my chupipi and I kind of work together to give our bestie a stable healthy place to rest at