#end the 50/50 relationships

[feministfang]

A 50/50 relationship is not in any way better than a traditional marriage lifestyle. Equal partnership is just an illusion sold to women in the name of gender equality bullshit so they would overlook the sacrifices they are making for their relationships, and these men could reap out all their benefits from it without putting in any effort.

Women in the traditional marriages are expected to cook, clean and serve their husbands along with maintaining the feminine beauty standards, giving sexual favours and birthing kids for their husbands in return for these men providing them with a roof over their head, luxurious lifestyle and food (that these women brag about as if they used to be homeless before marriage).

Women in the 50/50 relationships are also performing feminine beauty rituals just to look attractive for their ugly boyfriends or husbands, they are also giving sexual favours to these men that these men are always desperate for, and on top of that, they also give birth to their kids. But men do not provide anything because equal partnership gives them a benefit of splitting the bills 50/50.

Liberal women are too brainwashed to not realise that this is NOT an equal partnership. Men think they don’t have to work hard to have access to women they like only because they can do their own domestic chores, and women keep buying into these scams thinking he won’t be a domestic burden on them.

But later on he does become a burden because there are so many things that these women do for their husbands that cannot be split 50/50. They do not realise this because liberal society has sold them lies that are promoted in the name of gender equality and choice feminism, like “it takes 2 to make a baby”, “casual sex is beneficial for both men and women”, “beauty culture is so empowering” etc.

A 50/50 relationship is only beneficial to men just like a traditional marriage. Women have no advantage in it. They only lose and men keep enjoying their benefits.

Society has set two options for women to choose from; either depend on a man financially and serve him domestically, or become independent and serve him without expecting him to do anything for you.

Nope! You don’t have to choose from any of these options! Independent women do not need men because we can provide everything for ourselves. It’s the men who need women because their entire survival depends on female energy and this is why they take their own lives when single and lonely.

If i would be dating a man, I’d expect him to serve me, financially add value in my life and put in all the efforts to even get my attention. He’d be doing everything for me, i won’t do anything for him. The relationship should be benefitting me and not him. Otherwise, why the fuck would i want him?? 🤷🏻‍♀️

So unless a man lives up to the highest level of standards that a woman has set for herself and worships her like a goddess, women are better off single as separatists!

[naamahdarling]

Labor, on its own, has no inherent value. The willingness or ability to labor does not translate to virtue. It can confer financial value, since everyone should be compensated for their labor, but it absolutely does not have inherent moral value.

Disabled people are not obligated to perform for you. They are not required, morally, to break themselves in order to earn some sort of personal value and prove their "worth" to society. They do not need to exhaust every possible means of survival to warrant aid, or spend the entirety of their existence pursuing the same amount of production as others even though it takes everything they have and leaves no room for anything else. They are not obligated to push their limits.

If that pisses you off because YOU have to work to the limit, or beyond, your problem is that you are not being paid enough or you are being asked to do the work of more than one person. Not that disabled people get help for "nothing".

You deserve better, too, you lovable dingus! Every single thing that benefits disabled people will benefit you and the ones you love, either immediately, or eventually. All of it!

[fujii-draws]

Grovyle, Celebi, and Dusknoir creating the most intricate plan regarding the most appropriate time to meet Hero and Partner again in the present while they’re next to the Passage of Time. How they’ll explore the present first as a trio for a couple more weeks/months, have Grovyle and Celebi reunite with the two whilst also giving a Big Heads Up regarding Dusknoir; where they’d then go on to see whether or not they truly want him there, and take the necessary action based on their decision. (Whether it’s a unanimous ‘fuck no we don’t want him back’, 50/50, or completely okay with starting over.) Nodding in agreement towards the plan and stepping into the portal together.

They then proceed to immediately get spotted by Hero and Partner just relaxing on the beach.

[fumifooms]

"The immortal x mortal relationship dynamic [is about] loving something you know will die. It is about vulnerability, vulnerability in the face of centuries of pain, centuries’ worth of trauma, centuries of experience jading someone. And the strength and vulnerability and hope that it takes to love something after that, when you already know how it is going to end.

That’s the metaphor, right, like we have terrible experiences, we have terrible relationships and you go into a relationship thinking you know how this is going to end but you have to do it anyway and that’s really hard. And the [immortal creature] take on that is pushing it to its extremes, it’s telling a story about someone who has unthinkable level of bad experiences and traumas, who knows for a fact how it’s going to end, even if it goes perfectly by human standards: there is an expiration date. And you have to choose to do it anyway."

Biz Barclay, When Allegory Fails, 3:22:00

[lovesickeros]

☆ i dream of embers

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes no au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.1k

The House of the Hearth is quiet — or, if you really wanted to be precise, the rats scuttling through the walls are working around the bubble you exist in. The children dare not tempt fates hand unless you asked for them by name, a contradiction. An order to the rules — they mustn't approach you with trivialities, but they must listen if you speak. Your words carry more weight than gold in this house, whether you know it or not.

A tenuous position.

You haven't done anything to earn their reverence, their almost acrid fear — but Arlecchino has. She wields her silver tongue with as much ease as her polearm, ensuring your care in her absence. Her devotion, her service, is felt in the warmth of her chambers, the silks she adorns you with, the bed so soft you feel as though you melt into it. A gift, a promise — a gilded cage need not be something undesirable.

You've grown used to the encumbrance of her presence, these days. The deep timbre of her voice, honeyed yet melting into something rougher, quieting into haunting silence as if she seeks not to disturb you. Dim candlelight is all that illuminates her broad frame as she slowly presses the door open and closed behind her, pallid skin streaked with darkening red, her bottom lip smeared with it like lipstick. There is a tension to her shoulders even when she sets aside her polearm, out of sight and out of mind, harsh lines on her face visible in the deep furrow of her thin brows.

Here, she let's the weariness settle deep into her bones — it's just the two of you, even if she hasn't acknowledged you at all. Still, it's a vulnerability she shows no other, even if that vulnerability is hidden behind layers of barbed wire and teeth.

You watch rather idly from the bed as she wets a cloth in a basin of water, the bed creaking beneath you as your feet sink into the plush rug beneath. You know from experience that trying to help her is like trying to soothe a wild dog, but your knuckles brush over the sharp line of her cheek anyway, free hand stealing the soaking cloth from her hands when her jaw flexes and tenses beneath the pads of your fingers.

It is only then that she looks down at you, eyes as sharp as blades yet so indescribably warm — like a flame licking at your skin, burning so deep you feel it linger for weeks after. Arlecchino is not soft, far from it — but she blunts her jagged edges for you anyway, brushes her lips against your knuckles and allows you a moment of adoration. Carves her worship bone deep in the ghost of her touch against your lower back as she leans down, let's you wash away the blood certainly not her own, never blinking as if you'd simply up and leave if she stopped looking at you for even the smallest moment.

You are well aware she is caging you in. You let her.

Though she is still stiff as a board up to the moment you set the washcloth over the side of the basin, her jaw flexing again, a moment of consideration given. She is not used to soft and brittle things, though — not used to touch that does not lead to steel at her throat, in her gut, carving out softness like a butcher carves up meat, section by section.

But this affliction of affection is stronger than the discomfort, at times.

You almost half consider letting her take the room and have a night of proper rest, but she is faster than you — a calloused hand tilts your head back, half lidded eyes glinting beneath the weight of exhaustion, her thumb firm against your bottom lip. She could kill you without even blinking, you are aware, but she is nothing but careful with her touch — not soft, not Arlecchino, but there is adoration in her touch. Like thumbing a locket portrait, trying to imprint their features into memory by touch alone.

Her touch is fleeting, but the warmth lingers long after — you don't need to be touching to feel the weight of her attention. She stokes the flames of the dying fire, has one of the children bring a fresh pot of tea, lingers even when she doesn't have to. You're sure her desk in her office is far more comfortable to work at, but she'd crammed a small desk into the room anyway, stayed even long after you fell asleep most nights. You never did get to stay up long enough to notice her slip in beside you, nor wake up early enough to find her there with you, but the heat lingers — she leaves breakfast at your bedside table, a small note of affection if she's feeling particularly sappy. Even when you don't see her, she makes sure you feel her presence however she can.

Neither of you need to speak to express it. The silence is..oddly comfortable, filled by the shift of paper or scratch of a pen, the clink of a cup or crackle of fire. It's a little too easy to get lost in watching her work, masking a smile whenever she glanced back at you with a question on the tip of her tongue that goes unsaid.

It's better that way, you both think. The silence was best left undisturbed — as if trying to break it would be like breaking the mirror to each others lives. You don't busy yourself in the affairs of the House of the Hearth, and she doesn't make you. It's better that way, too. Maybe that makes you naive, blind even, to the bodies at her feet piled so high she could drown, but you don't want to give up this fragile tranquility.

So you let the dull scratch of a pen lull you to sleep, try not to smile too much when a hand reaches out in uncertainty to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheek with so much affection it makes it hard to breathe.

It's a tenuous balance, but come the next night you will wipe the blood from her cheek again and she will care for you the only way she knows how — distant service.

And when you wake up to an empty bed, warm despite the fires long burned out, you'll still feel her presence in the allure of a warm drink and pastries at your bedside, a note tucked beneath the plate.

Just like the day before, and just as you expect tomorrow to be. But one day you'll gently pull apart the barbed wire and be let in — not today, no, but someday. It's a slow process, but you're patient enough to wait — and when she let's you in, you'll tend to the scars that it left like you've always done.

One step at a time, one day.

[paula-of-christ]

married!!! omg can’t wait for you to divorce congratulations!!

I think you're confusing me for your parents sorry that happened to you! ❤️

[crazycoated]

my personal concept of roadrat: they dont rly have insecurities that need to be patched over w labels or obvious affirmations. they sleep together, they heist together, & are never apart; yet if u ask either of them if theyre dating theyre like 'doesnt sound very anarchy to me.. idk' their relationship transcends the common dating lingo THEY WILL NOT BE CONTAINED!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just read the new mutants issue where Charles chose to stay behind in space and my god the juxtaposition between Charles trusting Erik and Erik joining the hellfire club and wondering at his own trust worthiness. I wonder how much of Charles decision was him ultimately trying to avoid the fact that his first class had seemingly betrayed mutant kind and not be willing to face them and how much of it was Dani and Illyana's reaction to him having Karma mind control Illyana. the fact that Illyana was depending on him to ease her mind through limbo and in choosing to stay he forced karma to do it instead, probably fucking up their relationship in the process.

I love him, this is crazy, how much of this is him trying to runaway and how much is this him not trusting himself to fix things and how much is it just him trusting Erik?

i keep trying to put into words my exact thoughts about the sitch but there really is a lot for one issue aintit... oh charles you and your brain...

[beanghostprincess]

sanji having the most obvious crush on usopp because his nose won't stop bleeding whenever he sees him being hot and the smoke of his cigarettes literally turns into hearts all the time... but usopp always, always thinks it's because of nami or robin because he's always with them and he just assumes sanji doesn't like him back. and if it happens when they aren't around he just thinks "oh, well, sanji might be thinking about the girls again instead of me".

and meanwhile, sanji is having the hardest time of his life trying to hide that he's head over heels for the sniper. he's sure usopp knows because he would have to be extremely dumb to not realize, and sanji knows that the guy he's in love with is pretty fucking smart, so...

but he forgets that usopp is also pretty fucking stupid. a little detail he ignored.

because one day, usopp is so frustrated and tired of sanji acting like that around him that he confronts him about it. "hey, dude, i know you're like- like this with nami and robin and that's fine because that's just who you are. but could you not do that every time i'm around? it's getting, uh, suffocating?"

and sanji does not understand what he means. "what, like- like what?"

"like this! the way you're drooling over them all the time. the yelling. the bleeding. the smoke thing that- how- how the fuck do you do that anyway?"

"happens naturally. i think my heart is connected to my lungs or some shit at this point."

"oh, okay. cool, just- just don't do that in front of me? because- well, not cool. especially whenever we're alone. if you're not interested in what i have to say, i get it, i'm not a pretty girl like them or- whatever. but i feel a bit left out whenever you keep thinking about them while we speak and-" the sniper refuses to look at him, wanting to the get out of the kitchen as quickly as he can. he notices he's about to cry. "sometimes you just don't notice what's in front of you and it frustrates the fuck out of me, sanji, so- just don't do that anymore. got it?"

sanji can only nod before usopp turns around and goes away.

perhaps usopp is stupid after all, because he's the one that won't see what's in front of him.

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

i fear (for what tomorrow brings)

by scritch

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Erica Sinclair, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Back Together, Vecna Possessing Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Have a Sibling Relationship, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Secret Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, References to Depression, Season/Series 04, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eddie Munson Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, POV Steve Harrington, Unreliable Narrator, Horror Words: 93,413 Chapters: 14/14

Summary

Since Starcourt, Steve and Eddie have been meeting (and falling in love) secretly. Until - frustrated by Steve’s secrecy - Eddie ended things between them. Steve doesn't cope well. He's been having nightmares, nosebleeds, and painful headaches. Everything is made much worse after Chrissy Cunningham dies in Eddie's trailer. Steve is forced to watch as Eddie becomes involved in everything Steve tried so hard to protect him from. Or: Steve Harrington's No Good, Very Bad, Awful Month.

[mariocki]

RIP Kenneth Cope (14.4.1931 - 11.9.2024)

"Michael Pratt and I just gelled. We had never met previously but we got on so well. Michael wrote, and we had such a great relationship that we would just change lines, and we were both on the same wavelength. That was such a lucky, lucky thing."

[hauntingblue]

Last arcane episode ever..... here we fucking go....

[homochihuahua]

Post fall Will becomes a stay at home spouse, because he really doesn't have any reason to work lol, and instead of working he becomes one of those interior design/ home renovation influencers. But instead of going with what he'd like, he makes everything in Hannibal's vision. Gifting him the house of his dreams <3

Hannibal gets an old property in Spain or something in the its country side. One day he tells Will of all the things he'd like to change in the house and so Will gets to work for his husband's sake.

Would Hann encourages him to film his progress and post it while keeping caution of the location of their place, making sure not to give any specific information that might lead to them, and without showing their faces? Absolutely. And Will loves it so much.

The experience of working through each project, the filming and editing of each video. Artfully matching the scenes to classical and/or maybe music from his childhood...

I always think of how Hannibal would encourage Will to take up an artistic outlet other than carving and serving people, and I think this would be so perfect to him.

[benechillax]

wow i think I’ve somehow wound up in a low key sugar mommy situation with the dude i’ve been seeing. Lol. Which is funny because he’s objectively a rich person

[johntorrington]

my ex gf suggested we go bouldering as a date and then like three weeks later broke up with me. john irving and his climbing exercises: causing gay divorce since 1845.