#cries all over you

[mayko-rayko]

over and over

[introspectivememories]

im sorry but i choose to believe that tim drake is the most insufferable "my man, my man, my man" girl about bear. he does not shut up about him. steph is cooking smth in the kitchen? oh my man can do that. bear cooks really well. dick triaging some poor victim on an emergency site? oh my man is really good at that. mhmm, bear is on his way to becoming a paramedic. damian building something? oh my man is really good with power tools. have you ever seen him build ikea? it takes him less than an hour. for our anniversary, he built me a coffee table. mhmm isn't he amazing? yeah my man did that. yeah my man, mhmm that's my ma-

[sollucets]

WORD OF HONOR || EPISODE EIGHTEEN

[whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx]

More Agatha All Along Incorrect Quotes!

(except these ones mostly have no actual source and just came from my brain :) )

⚠️Warning for some mild sexual content and mentions of alcohol! ⚠️

Teen: So did dying and coming back ultimately make you less afraid of death?

Lilia, taking a long sip of her wine: No, but learning she sometimes calls Agatha ‘Mommy’ in bed did.

*the coven, doing some spring cleaning*

Jen, who is perfectly capable of lifting it herself: Alice, can you come move this for me?

Alice, wiping some sweat off her forehead: Sure, Jen.

Jen, watching her from across the room: Mmm. Delightful.

Agatha, whispering in her ear: Pervert.

Jen, casually watching television: I don’t understand why TV producers have to put those warnings at the beginning of the episode, telling people not to recreate what they see. I mean, this guy’s trying to parachute off his own roof so he can steal fruit from his neighbor’s yard. People aren’t really THAT stupid in real life, are they?

Alice (a former first responder), lounging in her lap with her eyes closed: Yes, they are.

Lilia, watching out the window as Teen and Agatha climb up to the roof: Yes, they are.

Agatha: Are you two seriously crying over a cartoon meant for preschoolers?

Alice, wiping her eyes: No.

Teen, rewinding their episode of Bluey: Yes.

Jen, stalking into the room: AGATHA!

Agatha, rolling her eyes: What the hell are you upset about NOW?

Jen: YOUR WIFE JUST BIT ME!

Agatha: Uh-huh. Sure.

Jen, brandishing her arm: LOOK.

Agatha, spitting out her drink: Wait, what the hell- Rio, you ACTUALLY bit her?!

Rio: Her perfume smelled tasty :3

Agatha: Kid, we need to talk.

Teen, sighing: Are you about to give me a lecture on consent and safe sex?

Agatha: Huh? How did you know?

Teen: I’m not stupid. Did you really think I didn’t notice that condoms mysteriously started appearing in the bathroom cabinets when I started bringing Eddie over?

Agatha: What makes you think the two things are related?! Those could have belonged to anyone in this household!

Teen: YOU’RE ALL LESBIANS, AGATHA! WHOSE WOULD THEY BE?!

Agatha, who’s incredibly drunk: Y’know what I love about women, Alice? Kissing’em. Loooooove it. My mom tried to beat it outta me, but she couldn’t. Still a girl kisser over here.

Alice, who’s also seriously drunk: Amen.

Agatha, wildly gesticulating: Smelling her perfume, grabbing her ass, feeling her grab MY ass…TITS…

Alice, nodding sagely: Good. All good.

Agatha: Winding your fingers through her hair, pulling her closer…

Alice: Losing me there.

Agatha: What, Jen isn’t into hair pulling?

Alice:

Agatha:

Alice:

Agatha: …I now recognize my mistake.

[ukehole]

this too is poetry

[verecunda]

There are certain shippers in certain tags who seem intent on setting themselves up for a fall, and... oh god, I just can't be doing with it. Why can't shipping just be a fun wee bonus, a fun game of "what if?" on the side? Why do some people insist on making it the be-all and end-all of their enjoyment of the actual material, and building up their hopes on whether Character A and Character B kiss or not? (Especially when the source material isn't romance-focused!) The result is always the same, and it's always ugly, and no one ever seems to learn from it. I'm seriously considering blocking certain blogs, which I don't really want to do, because I do like reading some of the shippy meta, but fuck, I just can't be bothered going through this particular rodeo yet again.

Why does it matter if it's canon or not? People, that's why we do fic and art and all that in the first place - to explore the roads not taken in canon.

I'm seeing people saying things about feeling "anxious" about a series finale in case Ship X don't get together, or being "traumatised" because the actors of Ship Y have been saying in interviews, "We love the whole idea of people shipping these two, but we don't know if they're actually going to get together." And if this isn't just glibness, and they are genuinely feeling anxiety and trauma over these things... I'm sorry, but they need to stop. They need to get off the fucking computer and get some help, because it's not healthy to invest that much of your mental health in something that isn't real.

[ninyard]

just thought about aaron going to class for the first time after the trial. like it finishes on a friday and he has to walk into a biology class on monday and act like nothing happened, and act like they haven’t all been talking about him and his brother all week, like they haven’t all been debating whether or not their classmate is a cold blooded murderer or not. did he silence the room when he walked in? did anybody even know what to say?

[sugenberry]

This is a callout post for all Logan Sargeant authors on AO3 esp loscar shippers. Why are you all using your talents to make me cry??? Every time I open the site I'm reading these amazing fics that leave me in tears, I'm actually worried I'll be dehydrated soon.

Me fr:

Is being a LS2 fan not hard enough? Should I hold a contest to see who can write the funniest or happiest fic? Is that what I need to do to stop all this angst???

[stopper-my-heart]

I did not have on my Heartstopper season 3 bingo card that I would be crying over drawers

Heartstopper S3E4 | S1E1

(They hit me as a reminder of Charlie's safe place and a suggestion that the clinic can be or is one too)

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

The Witness and Why It (and its demise) Means Everything to Me (A POC Perspective)

Hey everyone!! The Final Shape has ruined me and has brought me to levels of not only grief, but hope, that I did not think possible, so I decided to give my thoughts on the different aspects of it that moved me to a place where I can be at peace with many things in my life and look forward to paving a better future!!! I think I’ll be making many posts pertaining to the Final Shape as a way to help me express my thoughts on how important this DLC was to me, but we will see!

Please note that these are just my loose, not fully structured thoughts and I’m yapping. My opinions are subject to change and I’d love to hear the input of others! We will be talking about subjects such as slavery, religion, black experiences, and personal experiences of mine!!! It’s very long too, so I’m sorry about that and any writing errors!!

Though I do not believe what I speak of was fully Bungie’s intentions when making the character, the implications and views you can take on the Witness do relate to what I will discuss.

I wanted to start off my return to tumblr with one of the many, many reasons why I have such a deep attachment to the Witness (Precursors and Dissenters will get a different post bc they mean the world to me too!!) , because truly, this entity owns my whole life. I think of it all the time, it lingers in my thoughts, my art, my writing, all of it. It has been so deeply intertwined with my enjoyment of Destiny since it appeared and has offered so much to my perception of the world. I do not think I will truly get over it and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t draw it every chance I get. It appears in every single thought of mine, it’s bad you guys.

I love the Witness so deeply because I have never harbored such a personal level of DISGUST for a character before. As much as I joke about it being silly and the love of my life, the very existence of the Witness revolts me to the core and the tragedies it has directly or indirectly caused squeeze my heart empty. This festering rot of an egregore SICKENS me as it is the beliefs that has robbed me and many others of family, culture, and livelihoods given form. My love for the Witness comes from how it instills in me such HATRED, and truly, we were far too kind to it in game.

For context, I am Caribbean American and have a tumultuous relationship with my heritage for many reasons, but it wasn’t until the Witness and its many victims that I felt like the religious imperialism that has affected my heritage was represented in a way that crept into my spirit.

My Caribbean mother always said to me that we are of this world, not in it. That the hearts of men are wicked and sin (cruelty) was embedded in existence itself. It is only when we give ourselves to a higher purpose that we will be free in the end from all suffering. To her, this life and everything in it did not truly matter for it was a temporary challenge to overcome in order to earn an eternity of salvation. A perfect paradise was awaiting us all if we just gave into the way and left everything else behind.

These were all convictions she held to her very core as she tried to shed away all other aspects of herself to give into this “truth”, especially her Caribbean culture.

She did not always believe this way, but to her, the island she came from did not truly matter at all. Those “wayward people” she grew up with were not worth anything and would die as nobodies on that nowhere island for their lives were not saved, even if they knew of the “truth”. In her adopted views, those people believed in false gods and practices (such as Vodou and beliefs that belonged to those taken from Africa and indigenous populations), they invited in frivolous wants of the flesh such as lust (with „improper“ attire and certain dances), and committed crimes that proved to her that they could never be anything more than what they already were (though she would be blinded to the fact that these behaviors are a result of hostile environments created by the systems established for slavery and racial subjugation). If she wanted to be fit for “walking the right path”, those people had to be left behind for they were lost causes who could not be saved unless they were delivered by the “respectable” ways of life. She had to discard her black mannerisms, hair, speech, and more to have a place amongst the truly chosen.

Religious imperialism has a long history of being heavily tied to discussions of race and colonialism as those who participated in subjugation believed themselves to be more enlightened than the people they brought devastation to, giving them an entitlement that drove them to force their way of viewing religion onto populations. After all, in their minds, they were doing the greatest good for they were setting the people they subjugated on a path for eternal paradise. There was no cost too high in this finite life for infinite salvation to colonizers and all efforts to convert populations who did not see this truth would be “necessary”. People would die or be forced into servitude in mass to support the ambitions of the “enlightened” ones, whole cultures and populations being scrubbed from the face of this Earth in an attempt to “heal what is sick”, to “break broken bones again to heal them right”. I think of all the generations lost to war, slavery, colonialism, and every other act done to deliver “purpose” onto others, all the people whose names will never be known because others used the breath needed to utter it on preaching of their own virtue, and I am left in ruin.

I think of how my mother speaks of those lost to destitute lives because of the social pillaging of the island as an unfortunate side effect of guiding them to the truth and I look at how her world view has been ruined.

My mother thought she was saving me by keeping me from my culture, my people, my family. I did not get to know the language, the customs, the land, but I did get to know how much my mother thought those were distractions. She spent my whole life trying to cement the truths given to her by the same people who left her island in such as state that she felt like she had to run from it, to ensure I would not grow into a person, but a vessel of the righteous message. After all, to be a person is to be complex, nuanced, and flawed and there was no room for that in the visions given to her. The complexities and human flaws that came with our culture would only distract us from giving our whole lives to freeing ourselves from the curse of existence.

The cruelty the Witness delivers with such gentleness as it razes civilizations, its unwavering belief that it is the objective truth and other perspectives are blind to this truth, the means it will use to get that “justified” end, its gut wrenching to me and all that has been lost throughout human history to ideologies that bear the same qualities. Its zealous, static nature that relies on circular reasoning keeps me up at night and makes me mourn what could have been if the unfamiliar and hard to understand parts of human expression were allowed to flourish instead of being eradicated for diverging from someone’s vision of what makes a life worth living. I see this big eyed vessel, incapable of growth and convinced of its own righteousness and my chest feels like it is going to cave in. I see its disciples and pawns in the faces of too many people I know and recall their stories in moments that remind me how poisonous what the Witness represents is.

The Witness is an evil that has hollowed out lives, homes, land, and futures, especially for those who come from heritages that have persevered against attempts to “rectify” them. I still grieve the empty life my mother lives and the people left to suffer the consequences of daring to create their own meaning. I look at the face of the Witness and think of the “burdens lifted off my mother’s shoulders” by those who thought themselves as witnesses of a truth that could not be contested with interpretations that could not be questioned. She prides herself on being a weapon wielded to correct the sinful hearts of men, but I just wish she prided herself on being a person because those who “delivered” her robbed people of color of personhood entirely.

The Witness is not a person, but the embodiment of these deeply rooted ideologies and concepts that affect so many. It’s horror, both in game and the parallels it has in reality, is far too grand and unfathomable for me to bear its weight on my soul and not agonize. Its very existence is monstrous, despite the understandable intentions that went into its making, and my stomach churns at the mere thought of it.

How many species in the Destiny universe will we never know about because their whole galaxy was used to get closer to the Final Shape? How many star systems were left barren because of the Witness’ ambitions? How many children, spouses, artists, philosophers, siblings, neighbors, and more, people who were something, became nothing because of eons of the Witness‘ justifications? Bile boils just thinking of it.

What the Witness represents has hung over my head my whole life and its perverse touch lingers on the whole Destiny universe, tracing many of the depraved atrocities in the game back to itself. It’s death in the Final Shape, at the hands of those it had turned into victims and left to deal with the repercussions of its influence united together, moved me in ways I do not think I could ever properly articulate. To see beloved characters I had given a decade of my life to come together from different backgrounds with different reasons to defeat such a heinous entity, I felt like I could do my part to bring others together, despite our struggles and differences, to rebuild what had been taken from us.

As a person of color from a group of people many still think are undeserving of life, seeing so many characters I have related to over the years say “I matter because I decided to and you can’t take that away from me” to an entity who thought itself so refined that it got to determine everyone’s worth strengthened my entire being. Existing as a person of color is bold in and of itself, but the defeat of the Witness at the hands of people who wanted to exist so bad they risked everything for it ignited in me a flame to be audacious. My existence and culture as a poc is unsightly and heretical, but TFS encouraged me to take on the prejudices of others by saying “Here, despite generations being molded into a “perfect” image and so many lives lost in the struggle to live personal truths, ergo sum. Ergo sum and there is nothing wrong with that”.

To me, the Witness’ death showed me that the stains left behind by social structures such as religious imperialism and colonialism can be overcome by people banding together to make the future different from the past. When we embrace the subjectivity of existence, we can create spaces for different views on life to flourish and reconnect with the nuances of this world. We can better the lives of our people, no matter who they are, not by abandoning all cultural practices and ways of life that were deemed meaningless, but by rebuilding our societies to allow for fulfilling lives and self efficacy for all.

My people no longer have to let imperial powers decide our fate for us or decide that we can be nothing other than the „nature of our race“ that they believe is inferior. Instead of looking up at others who asserted themselves as more enlightened for salvation, we can look at each other and realize there is no one truth to life, especially one worth all the devastation and cruelty placed against those who lived differently. The intricacies of life often lead people to belief systems that allow for comfort and understanding, alleviating the anxiety of possibly living an improper life that will forfeit a desirable afterlife. It is up to individuals to decide what makes their life fulfilling and what beliefs will guide their actions, for no one can make your fate but you.

My mother still likes to wear the patterns of the island and keeps paintings of island scenery in her room. She talks on the phone in patois when she doesn’t feel the pressure to be “proper”. She misses her mother because she used to make dishes from home. To relate it to Destiny, she still has the coordinates to her Lubrae in her pyramid despite convincing herself abandoning it all was for the best and there was nothing there worth keeping. I once thought reconnecting with our heritage alongside her would be a frivolous endeavor, but I hope that with time and understanding, the Witness may not have power over her anymore and she won’t look back on her disassociation with relief. Time and understanding will make our island grow and flourish, free to decide what it wants to be, not held back by preconceived notions of the worth of its existence.

Despite all the Witnesses in the world, I will persist on and try to acquaint myself with my culture without shame. The Witness is everything to me because I hope one day it desecrates nothing ever again. I hope the Witness becomes nothing at all and the cultures it has corrupted make themselves something audacious.

Thank you guys so much for reading!! I hope you guys don’t mind the vague language, I chose to spare some details for my own sake and to make the message more applicable!! I’d love to hear the takes of other people about this bc I love hearing people’s perspectives!! And always remember, no one makes your fate but you!!! Go be audacious!!!!

[teenitrash]

Post!War Levi who has to get used to moving around in a wheelchair

Post!War Levi who has to learn to rely on others and has to be the one asking for help this time around

Post!War Levi who gets frequent nightmares and bittersweet dreams of the past and has no one to wake up beside

Post!War Levi who finally allows himself to embrace life and live it as best as he can, handing out candy to underprivileged kids and opening up to Gabi and Falco about his mother

Post!War Levi who will never think of the "What ifs" and "What could have beens" as a way of showing that he will never regret the decisions he made

Post!War Levi who wakes up every morning, promising to live on and keep the memories of those who didn't make it alive as one of the last few surviving members of the Survey Corps

Post!War Levi, my tragically sad man.

[izzystizzys]

Fox tags along on a smuggling bust one (1) time and subsequently wishes he’d never been decanted.

Well, he’s arrested the perp a lot more than just one time, actually, but that very first tackle into a chokehold and electrocuffs more than sufficed to turn the fates against him - the fates, and Cody, the insufferable twat. They’re not actually even batchmates, the lot of them, and going by numbers Fox was decanted long before them (long as in seconds or minutes, no one actually knows), but Seventeen put them all in a training room together and then stupid kriffing Kote looked him up and down, nodded, and hasn’t stopped calling him vod’ika since.

“Why is one of the Republic’s most wanted criminals asking to speak to you, vod’ika?”, Cody asks, without any preamble, almost making Fox cut the holocall on principle. He would, if General Kenobi wasn’t right there next to the little shit. “And why do I not like his tone?”

Fox has to resist the urge to close his eyes and scream, making do with a deep sigh instead. Force curse the day Cody decided to adopt-nap him, and Wolffe following suit immediately. “Weequay, shifty eyes, stupid fucking pirate bandana?”

Cody’s eyes narrow suspiciously, and Kenobi’s eyebrows raise simultaneously. It’s more than a little creepy.

Fox rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “Tell him he can go space himself, unless he wants me to do it for him. And then tell him that if he sends me fuzzy fucking socks again I might just hunt him down and do it anyways.”

Past the slide of the door, Thorn’s unmistakable cackle reaches Fox. And Cody, going by the narrowing of his eyes. “Don’t tell him that, ori’vod, he’s probably into that”, Thorn calls out, gleefully, and Force Fox really should’ve kept this to himself in the first place.

He would’ve, actually, but the constant stream of strange presents into Guard headquarters is hard to miss. It was Alderaanian chocolates, last week, which Fox pawned off on the Shinies. A box from a store with a blacked out label before that, which he launched out the window with burning ears before Thire could get a closer look at it.

“Actually”, Thorn continues, happily, “I don’t think it matters much if you do tell him anything - it’s not like the Commander has been the most graceful courtée, and that hasn’t done anything to discourage our favorite smuggler.”

“Marshall Commander”, Fox hisses, because he’s a pissy bitch, and then, because all professionalism has gone out the window anyways, “This is why Stone is my favourite.”

Thorn’s wounded gasp is lost over Kenobi’s thoughtful hum, and Cody’s patented I’m-going-to-do-something-incredibly-stupid-and-you-can’t-stop-me glare. “That would explain why we have Hondo Ohnaka accosting our troopers about your flavour preferences concerning fruit candies. But the one asking to speak to you is Cad Bane, Marshall Commander.”

The string of curses Fox lets out at that is loud enough to have Mauler stick his head in the com room to ask if everything is alright, and Thorn roll on the floor with howling laughter.

Force curse the day he ever slapped electrocuffs on Hondo Ohnaka, and double-curse the one he threw Cad Bane to the floor with a scissor leg takedown.

[the---hermit]

i am sadly one of those people who are super insicure of themselves after any social interaction, I go over and over again in my head and feel irrationally bad bc my brain tells me I was awkward, and probably came off as weird and so on. But you know what brain? I had the social interaction. I did it. I spoke out loud to people and had a conversation instead of freezing and feeling unable to talk. So fuck it if I came off as weird and awkward, I am weird and awkward and it's okay, because I did something that just a few years ago would have been even more of a struggle, and even earlier than that it would have been close to impossible.

[coffeeisfortheresponsible]

do you ever think about how truly hilarious it is that i live my life this emotionally invested and obsessed with in a kids show about lego plastic ninja

like i completely recognize that it’s the funniest thing ever to be analyzing this show like it’s literature and making sad and symbolic art for it.

doesn’t mean i’m going to stop of course,, but yes i do have self awareness i know full well that this is insane behavior

[phykoha]

I hate hate HATE when people say I'm "having an attitude" with them, bc I'm literally not until AFTER they say that. And thats not even "an attitude", it's me being annoyed and frustrated bc youre saying im having an attitude when im NOT.

Like what does that even mean. I'm just autistic.

[tls123]

when you fail so hard to convince your brother to come home (you both cried btw) that it somehow turns into agreeing to put on a show to make everyone else think he defected (you won't be able to support/protect him any longer) and you literally have to take the deepest breath possible to steady yourself as you leave him to this hell he is trying to turn into a new home (without you!!!!) to go prepare for the fake fight: