#but they got it all wrong

[speakercrab666]

counterpoint: it’s not “he hurt me a lot bc i couldn’t let go” it’s “he hurt me a lot, one time, fearing for his life. i refused to let go bc a minor injury was worth it to save his life.”

it’s knowing that this tiny scared little thing doesn’t know any better than to hurt you, but the pain you’d get by helping him is manageable to you and and it won’t last long. if you don’t help him you won’t get hurt, but he will get hurt without your help, and he can’t take it nearly as well as you can.

Great news everyone. There was a kitten wandering in the drive thru at work and my inner warrior cats kid tried to be a hero and capture him.

I have now suffered multiple puncture wounds and have to go to the emergency room.

[andisupreme]

At the company retreat, one extremely drunk girl asked what my pronouns were. (Eventually, it took her a while to word the question.) After the whole conversation was done, she goes- "YEAHHH GURL, Get on with--with THY bad self! See what I did?? They/them/thy."

I was almost holding back tears from trying not to laugh as I told her yes that's great you nailed it honey. Thank you very much I am feeling the love.

Anyway I've been assigned Thee/Thine at Supportive Drunk Girl

[hinamie]

mentor

[aarchimedes]

for context: I read the hobbit first over the course of two years when I was like 13, but I'm only now starting to read lotr. having a blast tho!

anyways, reblog if you feel like it 🙌🏻

[poobit]

helplessness and responsibility

[shepscapades]

[Set in Mid-Late Hermitcraft Season 8]

In which we learn a little something about Cub, a little something about Doc, and a little something about Xisuma.

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[anistarrose]

amnesiac barry bluejeans is still one of the most existentially fucked up characters of all time to me. you wake up with a gaping hole in your memories, naked in a tank in a cave that screams "dark magic and horrific experiments." your own voice tells you you've lost more than you can imagine, and you sound like you know what you're talking about. you run away from that place, knowing you're on a death mission. wishing you didn't have to wonder what happened to you — how some nobody like you got caught up in something so terrifying and incomprehensible, something so much bigger than you.

and then, you die. and you realize it's the other way around. you are the terrifying, incomprehensible thing that the fate of the world has been caught in. and you've just failed. again.

[basslinegrave]

pin-up

b&w originals

[smollkittykat]

I kind of don't like how a lot of people forget that despite all the angst and the drama around Dean and Cas they are fundamentaly best friends.

How many times did Dean say it throught the entire show? Bobby in season 6 saying "Well, you just lost the best friend you ever had."

For Bobby to say that, knowing Dean better than even Sam in some regards, how many times had Dean been sitting with Castiel on the couch in his living room?

Cas doesn't sleep, and rarely does Dean, with the Apocalypse looming right behind him.

So all they had left, in those quiet nights were each other. And they were okay with it, because they liked each other's company.

[ceilidho]

soap developing an unhealthy attachment to his therapist post his brush with death after being shot at point blank range. he was reluctant to see a therapist at first because he didn't like what it said about him that he was being more or less strong armed into seeing a shrink (like no one trusts him anymore; they don't think his head's on straight since being shot), but as time goes on, he grows to cherish the relationship he's cultivated with his therapist because,

well,

she understands him. she listens to him. where everyone else seems to want him to just hurry up and get better (the nightmares, the mid-sentence brain fog, the erratic mood swings, the silent brooding when he can't find the words, aphasia on the tip of his tongue, the constant, constant headaches and auditory hallucinations that he can't seem to kick), she doesn't put any pressure on him to heal right away. she works with him and his medical team; gives him the space to process what happened to him, and has a seemingly bottomless wealth of patience for him.

he can talk for hours in her presence. it's a shame their time together is limited to an hour and a half every week. the dulcet sound of her voice is such a comfort to him. it's a shame she politely but firmly rejects his advances when he finally asks her out, tells him that it wouldn't even be appropriate for them to be friends outside of his sessions. that it would in some way hinder his healing journey. which pisses him off because Soap has progressed in leaps and bounds since those early days when he used to stumble over his words sitting on the couch across from her, head in his hands when the language felt beyond his grasp, a fine tremor still running through his hands that he's since managed to contain,

and

his head is throbbing again. a sharp pain above his eye that pulsates like a drum in his head and -

he thinks about her constantly. in and out of sessions. she's a frequent topic of conversation when the brass finally lets him back out in the field, Makarov finally dealt with (resting six feet deep in an unmarked grave). he ignores the looks oscillating between concern and worry that Price gives him. ignores the way Ghost barks at him to quit bothering the bird in the tight skirt and fuck someone that won't get him discharged. ignores the way Gaz pulls him to the side to ask if maybe he needs to see another therapist, y'know, mate...get some distance.

they act like this is something new. an abberation and not his very nature. like he hasn't always been the type to lock onto a scent like a hunting dog. a sniper by training. he sits and he watches and he waits; waits for the right moment that he alone knows.

it comes to him on an inauspicious day, when he's leaving the training facilities and spots his sweet thing rummaging around in the boot of her car, her ass beckoning him forward like a siren's call. now, now, now, the little itch in his head says, the voice that knows when the time is right. it's a sense acquired through conscious and unconscious observation, letting it all filter into his frontal cortex until he knows without knowing that the parking lot is empty apart from the two of them and the men at the base gates half a mile away.

it would take nothing for him to come up behind her and push her into the boot. nothing to wrestle the purse from her hands and slam the trunk shut. nothing to drive off base with a flick of his fingers to the guards that hardly ever bother to question him before he leaves (though they know what car he actually drives), made complacent by familiarity.

and he knows that it's wrong, knows that there's a line that he shouldn't cross, that choices have consequences, but,

his mouth salivates when her hips twitch, the urge to take settling over him. surely they'd forgive him one indiscretion.

[frownyalfred]

a scenario where both Bruce and Tim are out and about as civilians and end up needing a rescue from their respective Supers so Jim Gordon has to sit there and watch as Superman (fine as long as he's just visiting) and Superboy (near-identical to the former but says fuck?) carry the two Wayne family members back down to safety while simultaneously playing the "I've never met this man in my life! Just a lucky rescue! / If you even look at my human I'm going to go feral" game all the way down.

[obsob]

oooooooooough i love you i love you i love you!!!! hand in loving hand !!!!!!

[hinamie]

"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"

some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3

[inkskinned]

love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.

love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.

love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.

love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.

maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.

recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.