#[EVERYONE CARE HER]

[tootkin-goblin]

Just remembered, as I was cooking some potato, about that time I went on holidays at my (now ex) girlfriend's grandma and met her whole family on this side.

All of them, the uncles, the aunts, the cousins of all age and gender, all of them told me about the legendary mashed potato that the grandma does. How good it is, how they can't reproduce it, and how the grandma has never told the recipe to anyone ever. A mystery, a secret she's going to take to the grave!

And like, it's a very good mashed potato. The recipe is simple, you boil some big potato, then you mash them with salt, pepper, herbes de Provence (a mix used almost everywhere in the south of france made of rosemary, oregano, thyme, basil, chervil, tarragon, bay leaf, fennel, marjoram, sage, and wild thyme), a good chunk of butter and a dollop of olive oil.

I know because she was very happy to show me how it's done when I, alone, went to help her in the kitchen (:

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Vanessa gets a new family..

[theoldkyokodied]

The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[batsyheere]

Forget Bruce Wayne. Give me Jim Gordon, the nosy neighbour who likes to make sure new-to-town Danny Nightingale is looking after himself, who enjoys inviting the 'kid' over to enjoy a meal while he goes on about his own daughter or gets Danny to open up about his life.

Give me Danny, oddly charmed and highly protective of this paternal figure who isn't actively trying to adopt him. Who likes to check in and make sure the man is actually resting when he gets injured on the job. Who, after many trials and errors, manages to cook a meal and bring it over instead of ordering takeout. Who has someone actively listening to him even if they don't actually understand every word out of Danny's mouth.

And everytime a Bat tries to come around Jim Gordon is on the roof with a broom, waving them off because this is his kid, Bruce! He called dibs!

[ciderjacks]

An old friend

[sweetlullabyebye]

Those two were so unexpectedly sweet they just kinda adopted each other with the third game like yeah we're in this together now

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Pt 3 of aroace sonic compliments

To be clear no one is safe

[warningsine]

Love seeing the new generation find out how, well, gay "Wicked" is.

Closeted high femme dressed as the lesbian flag not getting on her rebellious activist bestie's broom and regretting it for the rest of her conformist life.

[bixels]

Reminiscing about Little Witch Academia.

[sunandmoonseisai]

Canon marcille: I want all human races to live at the same rate so that we'll all be on equal footing and noone has to be oppressed because of their race ever again. And so that I may never revive the trauma of losing my loved ones while I'm still at the dawn of my life. Even if it risk dooming the whole earth, my desire to grow old with the people I love in a world that treat them fairly is stronger than reason.

Fanon marcille: fuck everyone I just want my gf back

[chloesimaginationthings]

William Afton winning that “idgaf” award in FNAF

[megueggu]

pet her! for @pup_hime ✨

[strawberry-halla]

back from the dead just to say solas is definitely a “my wife” guy. he will not shut up about lavellan.

“ah yes, my wife loves these. i’ll make sure to bring some to her.”

“maybe i should introduce you to my wife. you have a lot in common with her.”

“sorry i cannot stay, my wife is waiting for me.”

solas is a certified yapper. he yaps about the fade all the time. you think he’d ever NOT yap about lavellan? no. he will bring her up every time someone says something that reminds him of her. this lovestruck fool. this silly worm.

[scissorcraft]

happy older-woman-who-takes-care-of-the-family day!!!!!

[maybebi47]

anyone else ever think about that scene in episode 7 of sophomore year when ragh found out his mom is dead but she isnt really dead her consciousness was in another body, and he started saying "do all our hugs count? it wasnt her real body but they count right?" and then fig hugs the gem her dad is trapped in and goes "IS THIS NOT A HUG?" and ragh hugs HER and they all start crying and adaine says my "parents never hugged me" and kristen just goes "i hold trackers hand quietly"

anyways i miss fantasy high sophomore year gang