Someone keeps moving my chair.



Kill the idea that naivety is an unforgivable flaw but cynicism is just wisdom, murder it, chop it up and serve it for dinner, I don’t care, just end this bullshit idea that it’s better to hate than to love and better to rot in miserable bitter resignation than to hope for the best.


You wash up on a deserted island alone. Sitting on the sand is a box. What is in that box?

Oh, real talk - this sequence reminded me immensely of the Firefly episode where the Alliance questions members of the crew. Very different things at stake, but the trope/mechanism for revealing an incredibly dense amount of information about a large number of characters is the same, and just as well employed.


Can we discuss the amazing writing decision made in making Skye’s original name “Mary Sue”?

YES this pffffff.

Guys there’s a character in SHIELD literally named Mary Sue and yet
the show is also legitimately serious and well made WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW.


How are these writers so perfect at creating episodes that are just completely filled with heart ache and yet have scenes that make me laugh and forget momentarily that the rest of the episode is just pain

"Yeah, that’s it! They’re funny but they’re sad." -description of my favorite band that also describes maths% of my favorite fiction, this show has joined the club.

*reblogs infinite vague spoiler-free posts about SHIELD
feelings into the abyss*

"You wash up on a deserted island alone, sitting on the sand. There’s a box; what is in that box?"

Also, unrelatedly to the bits that hurt, there were funny bits. Simmons is such an excellent character.


raise your hand if you feel emotionally victimized by that episode

IT HURT SO GOOD this is why I watch Whedon things I am a fucking emotional sadist with my fictional enjoyment.




Why can’t there be a male hooter’s equivalent where male servers are shirtless and highly sexualized for their bodies and looks

Male Strip clubs. You’re thinking of male strip clubs.

No. Not a male strip club. A strip club is a strip club. I want a place called Cahones where waiters wear Speedos and are forced to stuff if they don’t fill out their uniform well enough. I want them to giggle for my tips. I want it to be so normalised and engrained in our culture that women bring their daughters there for lunch (because whaaaaaat the wings are good! Geeze sensitive much?) where they’ll give playful little nudges like, “Wouldn’t mind if you dad had those. Heh heh heh.” that their daughters don’t even understand but will absorb and start to assume is just the normal way grown up women talk about grown up men. I want to playfully ask my waiter if I can have extra nuts on my salad and for him to swat my arm with an Oh, you because he knows if he doesn’t his manager will yell at him. I want other men to pretend to like going there so I think they’re cool. I want to go to Cahones during my lunch break at work and when I come back and tell the other women in the office where I went they chuckle slightly and the men around us suddenly feel self conscious and they don’t know why.

Yesss let’s get on this.


boobs are ridiculous women should just have wings instead

I know many people who would be down with this trade-in.