#it's rotten all the way down

[wizzard890]

Hello! I'm someone who really enjoys makeup, but has recently in the past few years begun to view makeup and the makeup industry more broadly as something that is really detrimental to women. You seem to be in somewhat of the same position, and I admire your thoughts, so I was curious how you reconcile those positions or if you feel the need to reconcile them at all? Please ignore this ask if it's intrusive or weird lol

You can't reconcile them. You really can't. The beauty industry exists to churn out propaganda, inventing flaws and offering us fixes for a price, before moving on to the new (usually opposite, so you don't already have the tools) trend.

I'm in my thirties, I've seen the beauty industry turn into a nightmarish hydra that I never could have imagined as a teenager. The speed with which people create and zero in on new physical nitpicks, the ubiquity of filters and plastic surgery, that skincare (literally unless you have a specific ailment, a soft cleanser and nothing else will do you just fine) has become a lunatic self-flagellation in the name of some kind of nebulous Purity, just the endless chasing and chasing and chasing of that new thing that new miracle bottle, whatever will finally make you less disgusting for living in a human body. It's rancid. But it’s always been like this. Just slower.

And it's important to be intellectually honest about all this. The reason we think we look better with our lips a certain color, or our skin being a certain texture is because beauty culture has spent hundreds of years and trillions of dollars rotting our brains. None of this is real. You know that you find the people you love the most attractive when they're comfortable and bare faced and being themselves. Contour would change literally nothing about your feelings in that moment.

I enjoy makeup. I like gold eyeliner and deep berry lipsticks and a stain of blush. Why? Because I also have brain rot, and think I look Better with it on. You can't dismantle the entire wretched apparatus on your own, but you can be clear with yourself about why you believe what you believe. As my wife pointed out when I talked to her about this ask, even saying "I just like to decorate my face" doesn't hold water. You don't know what you natively like to do with your face, when it comes to beauty. You've spent your whole life marinating in propaganda. It gets into everything.

Due to my Ancient Years, I am no longer expected to be Young And Hot, which means I don't put on makeup on to run errands, and I don't feel like a full face is necessary to see friends or get dinner on a weeknight. I've started trying to treat makeup like I'd treat a pair of high heels: sometimes it's nice to feel dressed up, and in some environments heels are part of the dress code. Sometimes you wear heels to show your partner that you put in extra effort for them, or to make sure someone knows you took an occasion seriously.

Tellingly, heels also exist to fix a "failure" in your appearance.

It's like finding smoking sexy. Smoking kills you, unambiguously. And yet....it's hard not to feel like you'd be cooler if you had a cigarette in your hand. No one is immune to the manipulations of propaganda. But it is propaganda, plain and simple, and we shouldn't twist ourselves in knots to defend the lies it tells us, or try to make them ~praxis~. Beauty culture is exactly the same.

[aingeal98]

Something about older Jason looking at the child version of himself, the innocent victim, and feeling the need to defend and avenge him the way no one else will. They'll call him reckless and try to pin the blame for his death on some unique failure of his personality, the problem isn't Robin the problem is he was just a bad fit for Robin! And then older Jason coming back to life and spits on their twisted grief. Fuck you, that innocent child deserved more. You took his memory and ruined it to make yourselves feel better. If no one will give him justice then Jason will take it himself no matter who he has to kill to get there. It's the only way he can move forward.

Something about older Cass looking at this child version of herself, this innocent who has no idea what she was doing when she was tricked into killing, and finding her irredeemable. She will forgive everyone for everything if they need a second chance but she cannot forgive that innocent child. She spends ten years wanting that child to die for their sin, a standard she holds no one else to. And in the end she does have to die. She can never forgive that child until the price has been paid and the guilty, tormented, suicidal mess of a girl is dead and never coming back. Only then can Cass live on. Only then can she smile without feeling the weight of her kill on her back. If no one will give that child the justice they deserve then she will have to do it herself. It's the only way she can move forward.

[lostchildofthenewworld]

oh i see the hotd fandom has quickly reached the levels of racism in the asoiaf fandom concerning non-white/non-valyrian characters; how majority fandom ships a problematic white couple at the expense of the poc around them and how it’s detrimental to the narrative. ah yes, i am familiar with your game…unfortunately

[carryhatchet]

It's crazy how the incest stuff negates any support system Cathy has. like technically she has someone offering her an out from her abusive husband but choosing that also means choosing this other terrible thing. like. she's trying to get as far away from the past abuse as she can (while still holding onto so much anger) but she's escaping into new abuse (connected to holding onto anger???) and trusting. deciding. believing that it will aid her in achieving her goals, and then she can go from there. this belief of indestructibility bc what does she have if not that??? how could she stand to keep going while stuck between these options if she didn't separate herself entirely from them. the only people offering her escapes are just asking if she'd please come get abused by them instead of the current guy and every option is still better than how she was raised

[quortknee]

some of my durges heehee some of my tavs: [part 1] [part 2]

[swagging-back-to]

ynkow when you have a popcorn kernel stuck in your wisdom teeth for like two weeks and then you finally get it out and it smells like literal shit?

[hoodienanami]

since were living in this new age of understanding when it comes to how becoming famous (especially tabloid famous/infamous) at a young age negatively effects your mental health and psychological development i think its time that ppl start reevaluating how they talk about the sex pistols

[ephyjeva]

good evening just wanted to point out to you that on the back of warrant's D.R.F.S.R. there are exactly 32 pennies and shards of glass, presumably a ragu jar

[stabyou]

me when running away from everyone makes me end up all alone:

[scatteredshowersposts]

A post-canon, pre-reunion No. 6 playlist for Shion. This playlist follows Shion from the end of Volume 9, through Beyond, until just before he reunites with Rat. It concludes right before the events of my story, Summer Rain.

In the Country - La Luz There isn't one thing that I wouldn't do for you Why leave?

Good Grief - Dessa But I’m willing to work for this Just show me where to dig And I’m ready to hurt for this

I Don't Trust U Anymore - Left at London As a kid, I was idolizing millionaires and all the presidents But I don't trust them anymore No way, no way, no, not again And I may never trust at all No way, no way, I'm over them

Working for the Knife - Mitski I always thought the choice was mine And I was right, but I just chose wrong I start the day lying and end with the truth That I'm dying for the knife

Glass House - Screaming Females Whose house is this? A gift was promised Future structures till we all vanish

The Center Won't Hold - Sleater-Kinney I need a real affliction Gives me a reason to stay I need a new reflection Don't wanna see my face

Fear the Future - St. Vincent When the Earth split in two I was I, you were you I run for you Run for me, too

Kokomo, IN - Japanese Breakfast God, I wish we could go back there Left alone in my room I know they deserve you too And maybe I'm not that worthy

[captain-noir]

just got off a conference call with the fam and by fam i mean cousins and grandparents and great uncles all coz my baby sister (22) rang my mother up, in tears coz her bitch ass manager yelled at her in front of customers. murder was plotted. an entire smear campaign was launched. doxxing was considered. my brother is on his way to the shop with the intention to get her fired. madness. literally spent the last hour of my work in the toilet trying to talk various family members off the ledge.

[tardis--dreams]

What I always fail to consider when I create my absolutely realistic to-do lists and plans is the fact that I'm just. So so tired

[rcris123]

LRT (last reblogged post)

[urlocalmagicalcat]

really long rant (happy rant) in the tags, mostly towards @synthetic-lavender /vpos

romance repulsed aros and romance favourable aros are both cool and valid but because i never see anything about us: shoutout to romance indifferent aros. romance neutral aros. aros who just couldn't care less. aros who have a conflicted relationship with romance. aros who are fine with romance in some contexts but not in others. aros who don't mind romance when it's not amatonormativity being shoved down their throats. aros who haven't yet figured out their feelings about romance. aros to whom romance is Just Something That Exists. y'all are rad as hell and it's okay not to 'pick a side'!!

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[shakesey-p]

I’m not trying to do that, promise! How about we calm down? You have issues and that’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it today, or tomorrow, I just want to make sure you’re okay.

We can still watch the movie to take your mind off of it!

- Kev💵

Yes, fine. I know the drill, I'll be over in an hour, I'll wear something nice. See you later doll