#last sentence was sarcasm btw

[unma]

Really have to get over the part of me that is baffled at shit that happens. I found out that Trump won the election and was so baffled that people would vote for a proven racist rapist who gravely mishandled a pandemic, tear gassed people to take a picture at a church, ran his first campaign on a very clearly xenophobic (I think that's the word that applies here) message of building a wall and—

Well, that's just it, isn't it? Like, him getting elected isn't a freak coincidence. Just like that one person who said he thought Trump was like Hitler and still voted for him, people knew, at least in part, who they were voting for. It's not like this country is built on values that inherently support putting people like this in positions of power. Wait—

Well, Hitler is certainly better than a black Indian woman.

[skincareroutine]

i dont know if you heard about the list of 150+ celebrities who signed a letter to the emmys to revoke Bisan's nomination for her documentary surviving a genocide. but i went through the names of those "celebrities" and i spotted an epstein. you always know ur on the right side of history in hollywood when your name is on a list with an epstein and a weinstein right

[optiwashere]

So saw a post about Shadowheart's racism towards Githyanki and hating her for that. Saying it's gross etc. I thought it was pretty mild? Considering what the Githyanki are and what they do, I was expecting a lot more racism when you play as one or towards Lae'zel. They aren't nice.

Ah. Yes. This topic. I was wondering when it would come up lol.

I had a long, long, long diatribe about this, but I wound up editing it to hell and back. I agree with you anon. I think it goes to show you how desperate the camp crew was when they put up with Lae'zel after the mountain pass crèche turns out to be a dud.

Anyways.

If people are singling out Shadowheart for being aggressive towards the literal imperialist slaver race of turbo space fascists and calling that racism, I don't know nor do I care to know about it. Not showing the githzerai has, I think, kinda rotted some BG3-only people's brains since they don't see that it's not about the gith as a species but it's about their imperial culture. It's especially annoying when there are much more direct parallels to racism in-game, structural and otherwise (Astarion with the Gur, Lae'zel with the tieflings, Rivington/Emerald Grove with the refugees).

I get the folks that feel the Shadowheart v. githyanki thing as racism, so I won't speak to their feelings. I will say that it's very definitely more a specific case of "girl stole shit from an empire known for murdering wantonly and is trying to avoid interacting with them at all costs" at the very beginning of the game.

Personally, I'm much more interested in talking about the fandom's general treatment of the slightly corrupted prince charming character (normally a fandom favorite in RPGs) as a second-class citizen. He's "useless" and "not that interesting" this time, for some reason?

Not sure why that could be happening.

[bisexualseraphim]

I just saw the FNAF movie (I was invited by the cinema to see it for free before you shout at me) and it’s actually surprisingly decent. I don’t know how someone who’s unfamiliar with the games would find it but I actually enjoyed myself. If you’re a fan of the games I would recommend you definitely do NOT download it illegally online *wink wink* because Scott Cawthon is a stinky Republican pro-lifer who DEFINITELY deserves your hard-earned money to spend on funding bigots *nudge*

[moonloose]

it amazes me how only now people are starting to take a look into Venezuela's political scenario!? I mean it's not like Maduro has been at it for YEARS....

[marcsalmonds]

im feeling very vindicated that my vibe assessment (feeling extremely uneasy about him) on internet historian was correct like I dont know what it was but I remember getting it recommended to me and watching a bit of one and getting so turned off by one thing he said, I think it was ableist, I left immediately. This was years ago but I just saw on twitter someone say that he calls things "autism" in a derogatory way so it could very well have been that. normal guy with normal fans it seems...

[milfdarthrevan]

Still taking jabs at Shakespeare, I see!

Actually, I checked out the quote, and at least the first one comes from Hamlet. So the gravediggers might be comic, but the play’s a tragedy.

Just a little meaningless fun fact that I doubt bears any relation to the story whatsoever. Anyways, back to Night Watch!

[mosscrab]

i'm sick enough that i think my last day of work was sunday now. uhm. oops.

[yesimwriting]

Without Faith

a/n giggling and kicking my feet rn btw, this is meant to be a set up for something longer! lmk if you're interested in part 2 :)

Summary: After a news story that was only meant to be an internship assignment spirals into a crime story that earns national attention, you feel conflicted enough about your involvement to join a criminal psychology class despite being a journalism major. Despite your good intentions, the universe seems to have it out for you considering your slightly older professor is extremely attractive and the only person that seems to understand what you're going through.

Warnings/info: age gap (reader is of consenting age tho!!), future student-professor relationship, slow burn, slight changes to how college works for the sake of plot, a surprising amount of lore (i got carried away), me writing for a character for a first time on here so be kind 😭

----

It's not often one finds their enemy crumpled up and lying helplessly next to an overflowing garbage can. It's even rarer to see that and still feel the bitter sting of defeat.

"He didn't text me back, which is weird because when I ran into him on Friday--" Carlie, who might know you better than you know yourself, pauses.

You turn your head away from the trash in an attempt to abandon the newspaper as completely as the person who had thrown it away. "You saw James last week? You didn't tell me."

She watches you for a moment, her eyebrows pulling together in a way that tells you she won't accept your lie just because you're offering her an opportunity to re-dissect her most recent interaction with her latest target. "You know I did."

Carlie shifts her weigh from one foot to the other, her eyes drifting towards the ground. "It's there because it's old--it's over."

It's over. The words crack themselves against your skull. More than a sentence, more than a promise. The only consolation the state's attorney could offer grieving families. The sound ringing in your ears as a mother gave into her agony, a choked sob ripping its way out of her throat.

It's over--the catalyst that sent the mother to you in a parking lot illuminated by stale, synthetic lighting. They're the reason for her confession, that in some off-kilter way she thought the verdict would make her feel better.

It's over--the syllables that accompany the sound of the needle leaving Josh Robinson's lifeless body. Killed by the justice system or the media?

"You didn't do anything wrong." Carlie's voice is careful in its unflinchingness. "He was a serial killer. You--you wrote the truth."

And while this awareness has bound itself to your bones, it is rarely enough to make you forget what you did wrong. Journalists are impartial, they don't--they're supposed to understand, they're supposed to be careful. You took it a step further.

"I know."

You don't need to look up to know that you haven't convinced her. However, you must have sounded okay enough for Carlie to accept moving on. "And you're doing more than anyone else would do to make your true crime even better."

It's an exaggeration. Journalists have done a lot more for their careers than request to join a class that belongs to a department unrelated to their degree. But Carlie seems so happy to be able to compliment you, you decide to go with a less sentimental correction, "Not true crime."

"I know, journalism." She sighs, but continues to walk forward in a way that feels oddly optimistic. Maybe even relieved. "Make sure you point out the difference to the professor. I'm sure he'll love that."

You roll your eyes at her sarcasm, but follow her lead anyway. You've already perfected the elevator pitch you're planning to present to Dr. Spencer Reid. A brief but genuine description of the importance of ethical journalism, especially when it comes to writing about serial killers.

You're well practiced and far from worried about winning him over. Academic authority figures have always taken well to you...it also doesn't hurt that you spent all night googling him just to be safe.

"Actually," she begins, pulling open the door to the psychology building, "I bet there's no room for original material in the interaction that you've already imagined, planned, and mentally rehearsed."

You scoff as you step past the door's threshold. "No," the word is dismissive and entirely unconvincing. You instinctually move past it. "Go talk to your advisor about your thesis, I'll meet with Dr. Reid, and then we can order food or something."

The reminder of her own meeting seems to kill the mood, her smile morphing into something more focused. Carlie lets out a small breath. "Right. We got this." And with one final assuring nod, Carlie turns towards the stairwell.

----

The thought is a dull ache that wedges itself into your chest before you can bring yourself to knock against the door. It'll follow you forever.

When you step into the room, Dr. Reid will inevitably ask why you want to join his class. And then you'll have to answer.

You exhale as you extend your arm, knuckles rapping against the wooden surface before overthinking can hurt you any further. After a brief silence, you hear a slightly muffled, "Come in."

You reach for the brass handle, pulling the door open before stepping past the doorway's threshold.

The office is comfortable, a large desk and two plush chairs manage to share the space without seeming cramped. There's a pencil holder and several stacks of papers on the desk's surface. If one ignores the degrees--and the age of the recipient when he received them--on the walls, the office seems normal. Almost suspiciously so. There's even a partially wilted plant sitting on the windowsill.

After taking in the room, you let your attention fall to the individual behind the desk. He's--he--while you've read enough about Dr. Reid to already respect him, and are fully aware that he is far from your peer, you're also now looking at him.

Last night, you did stumble onto a few pictures of him that forced you to reluctantly make a mental note of the fact that he's aesthetically pleasing, but those occasionally blurry snapshots did him and his sharp features little justice.

"Hello," the word is an instinct, slipping past your lips before you're ready to speak.

"Hi," his response is as sudden and lacking in context as your own--a fact that immediately eases you.

Dr. Reid shifts, back straightening against his seat. "You're here for your appointment." You barely have the chance to nod in confirmation before he's continuing, "Come in, take a seat."

In all honesty, you're more glad for the direction than the excuse to sit. You enter his office fully, approaching the plush chair in front of his desk. You sit down, lips parting before you're ready to speak. All structured thoughts have abandoned you.

"Hi." You realize your mistake immediately. You blink, a sound between a self deprecating laugh and a sigh escaping you. "I already said that."

If Dr. Reid thinks anything of your mistake, he gives no indication of it. His expression remains steady, with the exception of the corner of his mouth briefly tugging itself upwards.

Your hands come together on your lap, one of your nails pressing into the nail bed of the thumb on your opposite hand before forcing yourself to relax. You've read enough about his work with the FBI to know that he's so adept at analyzing behavior, you don't need to make it easy for him by giving into obvious signs of nervousness.

"Like I mentioned in my email, I'm interested in joining your class even though it's not an elective and in an entirely different department than my degree." This part is easy, a perfunctory explanation of what he already knows. "However, there is enough overlap that my advisor is supportive of the idea and has already signed off on it."

He shifts again, his pointer finger tapping against the surface of his desk. "Right, she mentioned that, but she didn't mention why."

Okay. This is the part that matters. "I'm a journalism major, and I've recently completed an internship with The Washing Sun." In an act of total self betrayal, you study his expression for any hint of recognition. Finding absolutely none makes it easier to breathe. "And spending time in such an active, journalistic environment has made me fully aware of the way that morals and personal views can complicate ethics."

You pause, pressing your lips together. "I'd like the opportunity to learn about certain behaviors in order to develop a perspective separate from my own.

Though still politely neutral, something behind Dr. Reid's eyes implies an uncertainty that has the rest of your pitch jamming itself down your throat. Whatever's changed doesn't feel like disbelief, and you're far from worried about being accused of lying. You were careful to comb through your mess of emotions before you had even pitched the idea to your advisor--you do feel those things, they're just not the only things you feel.

How delusional had you been to assume the same answers that hid their vagueness behind a heavy layer of altruism that worked on Mrs. Carol would work on a FBI profiler?

"I um--" The sound of your own voice surprises you. "I know what it's like to write something when you can't feel anything for the person everyone's already rooting against, and I'd like to not feel that again." Another glimmer of honesty, barer than your curated story, but still not exactly everything.

Dr. Reid is quiet for a moment, studying you with an openness that should make your skin crawl. "What did it feel like?"

The question throws you. Friends, family, strangers--they've all asked you things about the case, about your article, about hundreds of other things so barely connected you couldn't fathom an answer. No one has ever asked you about that feeling.

"Uh..." You're not even sure you have an answer. "Weird." Your blankness feels like such a cop out, you feel the need to try again. What did it feel like? A hybrid beast made of a festering not-quite-guilt, an over awareness of your every action, all held together by an uneasy pride...that only served to further aggravate the not guilt. "Like I was doing something right and wrong, with no way of knowing what it was more of."

You squeeze your hands together, allowing yourself to focus on the action instead of him. "I'm sorry, that probably doesn't make much sense."

When you finally lift your head, Dr. Reid is already looking at you. A moment passes, the somberness of his features growing heavier in the silence. Maybe he's looking at something past you. "It does."

The affirmation is a small, fragile thing, so faint and far away it almost feels like an intrusion to have heard it. Some selfish part of you latches onto that, his unexpected understanding a lifeline you can't let go of.

You almost thank him before realizing that you have no idea what you'd be thanking him for. "I'm glad," you settle on, fingers carefully coming apart on your lap. "The writing thing's no good if I don't make sense."

The attempt at humor seems to pull him back from wherever he had gone. "Then you have nothing to worry about." He doesn't exactly smile, but there's something easy about the way he's looking at you. "I'll approve your enrollment request."

Relief floods through you immediately. "Really?"

"Maybe it'll help you feel less...weird." From him, your too plain adjective feels a lot more fitting.

You nod once, the motion quick and polite. "Hopefully." The beat of silence that follows comes closer to kinship than anything you've ever felt in someone's office. You're also fully aware of the fact that you've gotten what you came for and that Dr. Reid is likely a very busy man. "I shouldn't take up anymore of your time."

His fingers tap against his desk. "Right. I'll see you in class."

You smile as you stand. "See you then."

The walk towards the door is a lot less intimidating now. Still, once you reach it, you can't bring yourself to immediately reach for the handle. You pause, letting out a breath before turning around. "Dr. Reid?"

He looks up, nodding once in a way that's meant to prompt you. Maybe it's overkill, but it feels necessary and it's too late to back out now. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He doesn't look away from you after responding.

There's nothing left to expect, there are no words or anything else meant to be said. That's not enough to stop some unknown feeling from wedging itself between your ribs, urging you to something, to say anything that might come close to offering him the same kind of understanding he's given you.

"I hope you find a less weird, too."

He doesn't respond, but something about the look behind his eyes and his slight nod makes you feel okay about leaving him.

----

There are few ideologies that have clung to him, and even fewer that have managed to bind themselves to some integral part of his being that exists beneath his skin.

The pursuit of knowledge is one of the few constants Spencer Reid allows himself to rely on, one of the only things he allows himself to consider a saving grace. However, circumstance has prevented his views on the subject from skewing. The irony of the fact that some things are better left unknown is not lost on him.

For example, the girl that walked into his office and immediately saw through him, is better left a mystery. He'd see her in class, he'd answer her questions, he'd grade her work and offer her necessary feedback--but he will not know her.

It's a mantra, a promise that he repeats in his head again and again as his attention falls to the desktop in front of him. He attempts to grasp onto this lack of knowledge, to transform it into a tangible entity to keep him from typing your name into the search engine.

----

a/n spencer entering his garcia era while googling reader 💻🧑‍💻

anyways in ur interested in part 2 or would like to be tagged let me know!!

[lust4lifemelanie]

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆? pt 1

| Matty Healy x reader

Summary: Friends to lovers, reader is kinda blind, playful flirting, slow burn, lightly based off fallingforyou. Btw this is really short but trust the process 🙏🏻

A/N: We are soo back, i’m actually so sorry for being so unactive i’ve had so much writers block. I hope y’all enjoy this one though.

Your clock read 9:30 p.m., as you were finishing last-minute homework you heard a knock on your window, making you jump slightly. You open your window and scoff when you see your best friend's face smiling like a dork.

“Really, was that really necessary?" You roll your eyes. “Yes, now can I come in? It's cold as fuck out here.” Matty practically whines, which you couldn't help but smirk at.

"Fine, but be quiet.” You open the window wider so he can crawl through. "I'm always quiet.” He scoffs as he climbs through the window.

“Since when? You never know when to shut your gob.” You tease him as you watch him climb through your window.

“Um? Yes, I do. I just prefer not to.” He stands up. “Whatever, why are you here? I thought your band had practice or something?” You look at him, slightly confused, as you sit down on your bed.

“We finished early; Hann’s mum wanted him home, fuckin pussy,” he says as he sits next to you on your bed. "Plus, I wanted to see you, I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever,” he adds on.

“So you crawled through my window at night because you missed me? Aw, Matty, have you gone soft?” You tease and pinch his cheek.

He playfully slaps your hand away and rolls his eyes. "I'm starting to regret coming here.” You smile softly. You’ve known Matty since primary school, but after he met that group of guys and started that band, you two kind of drifted away from each other. 

“Anyway, how was band practice?” As you gently look into his soft brown eyes, a crooked smile forms on his face. “It was good; we're working on a new song at the moment, so it's been a little more difficult than usual.” He scoots a little closer to you. 

“You should come to practice sometime; it's actually quite funny watching George get mad when he messes up.” He adds on, the smile remaining on his face. 

“I mean, I’d love to, but I don't want to be a bother or something.” After the sentence leaves your mouth, Matty instantly shakes his head.

“You wouldn't be a bother; Hann’s girlfriend always comes to the practices." You sigh because you know he isn't going to shut up until he gets what he wants.

“Fine Matthew, I'll go since you're so desperate to get me there.” Your sarcasm makes him roll his eyes again.

“Please, you practically jumped at the chance."  

For the next hour, you and Matty talked. Your favorite thing about hanging out with Matty was that you didn't feel uncomfortable with him. You could talk to him about anything; guys around your age were gross and annoying, but Matty wasn't; he was sweet and actually funny.

As your mid-conversation matty's eyes wander to the clock on your nightstand, his eyes go wide. "Shit, I missed curfew. My mums going to be pissed. I got to go, but I'll see you later, Bye Y/N”

You smile softly. “Bye Matty, I’ll pray that Denise doesn't kill you." He flips you off before climbing out of your window, getting on his bike, and riding away.

 The next week, Matty got his way, you were sitting on the floor of his basement with your back against the wall, watching and listening to his band rehearse.

 Something about Matty's voice singing was oddly comforting for you. He had a way with his words; you weren't the biggest fan of rock or indie, but for him, you’d be the first one at the barricade.

After the rehersal, Matty sat down next to you and asked, “So what’d you think?” He smiles softly, looking at you with his pretty brown eyes.

“I surprising liked it.” You smiled back, he couldn't help but scoff, “Suprisingly? that sounds backhanded."

“Shut up. I didn't have to give you a good rating. Be grateful that I'm nice.” You say in a teasing tone, he raises an eyebrow after hearing your sentence.

“Nice? Bitch, please; you are so far from nice.” You roll your eyes. "I'm spending my Saturday here watching your band play; I think that's pretty nice if you ask me, Matthew."

 “Actually Y/N, I'm saving you from a boring Saturday of doing homework or going out with whatever douche bag you're dating at the moment.” His cocky attitude was so annoying sometimes.

“Is this slag off Y/N hour?” You ask sarcastically. He smirks, "I'm just taking the piss, darling.” He puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side.

There was a little bit of silence. Matty’s friends were upstairs, getting drinks. It was just the two of you. “I missed this, Y/N.” Matty breaks the silence and looks at you.“Hm? Oh yeah, same.” You smiled softly, and he smiled back.

 The boys came back down with water bottles, tossing two to Matty and me. The boys sat on the couch in the basement and were going on about the songs, cracking a few jokes here and there.

You never really hung out with Matty’s band friends; as much as you loved Matty, you’d much rather hang out with your girlfriends than with a group of guys. "Matty how come you’ve been hiding Y/N from us?” George asks and playfully nudges Matty’s shoulder. You smirk and join in. "Yeah, Matty, how come?” Matty scoffs at the both of you.

“I haven't been hiding her from anyone; blame her; she's the one who hates meeting new people.” He says defensively, and you roll your eyes.  "Well, I didn't know that your friends were funnier than you.” You say it jokingly, causing the others to laugh.

 A dramatic fake pout forms on Matty's face. "Well, now I know the taste of betrayal." He puts a hand to his heart like the drama queen he is.

 The day went on in Matty's basement, and you got along well with the group. The sun started to set, and you thought it would be best to start heading home before it was fully nighttime.

 You told everyone goodbye and made your way back upstairs out of Matty's basement. You were almost out the door when you were stopped.

 "Wait, Y/N,” you said, turning around to see George. “Yeah?” You look at him slightly confused.

 "I'm having a party Saturday, and I thought maybe you’d want to go?” He flashes a flirty smile.

 You smile back and say, "Yeah, sure, I’d love to." George's smile widens when you agree.

 “Cool, I'll have Matt give you the details. Oh, and you can bring a friend if you want."

"Thanks; Ill see you until then.”

[mithliya]

I get your other points in your post about the Singapore stuff but you say the only anon who sent an ask that said they were asian was the first Singaporean one, but in this one: tumblr.com/menalez/717597064221097984/ Last sentence begins with: "I'm Chinese" and this was the anon you told you to block you and called dumb when her entire ask was about Sinophobia. This is the ask that imo made everybody angry.

Idg how you can say that anon wasn't asian when she said she was Chinese and said "other Chinese users I follow" meaning other than her as she is also Chinese. I think she wasn't in the wrong either since she properly explained why she/others were angry with you, which is why your response was not well received by asian more specifically Chinese speaking users on here -- I won't say Chinese users since some of them were Taiwanese. Two of the other people who reblogged your posts w/ criticism were also both asian and you were very rude to one of them, even if she was angry I think it was understandable given the situation and context she gave.

Basically I'm just curious wdym by no one except the Singapore anon were asian? /srs q not sarcasm or anything btw. I do lean more towards siding with the asian users who were critical of you (as I'm also asian, but not Chinese/Chinese speaking) but genuinely I do want to understand your POV better since I can't quite understand your thoughts behind certain things that happened, since you still say some things that make me tilt my head like a dog reading it lol

i did not say all anons but 1 were not asian. i said almost all were not asian, which was the case. at the point of me answering the anon u were referring to, i had already received at least a dozen of anons misconstruing me, making ignorant comments, and harassing me. at that point i was frustrated and did not read most of the anon and simply said sth along the lines of yknow what i’m sick of being misconstrued so yes please just block me this entire thing is stupid. as i said, i was being called sinophobic by a bunch of clearly non-asian anons who kept making comments about “oh if i go to japan would i be japanese??” when i was talking about indian singaporeans not just random indians in singapore, so when i got the last one i was frustrated bc it seemed to be the same misconstruing and responded in the way i did. i was under the impression we were talking about the same thing, again, not about sinophobia or anti-asian racism but about indian singaporeans. i addressed everything in the post and i repeatedly apologised. i don’t know what else you want me to do.

[verahatesglue]

15 mutuals 15 questions

tagged by @skelkankaos

1. Are you named after anyone? yes

2. When was the last time you cried? idk but i won't lie i nearly teared up listening to the new mitski album the other day

3. Do you have kids? no. and never will

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? sparingly i'd say, just to tease friends and family

5. What sports do you play/have played? bowled varsity for the last three years of high school. haven't be able to in a while now (shit's expensive)

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people? usually how they dress. really appreciate cool outfits

7. What’s your eye color? blue but people love telling me how green they look (they're not green)

8. Scary movies or happy endings? need movies to make me stare at a wall afterwards in deep processing thought

9. Any special talents? i do pretty dang good with sentence words :thumbsup: (intentionally worded horribly). not necessarily a "talent" but i've been told i'm a pretty impressive writer when i want to be

10. Where were you born? northeast ohio born and raised

11. What are your hobbies? drawing, writing, roleplay, gaming, sewing, story building

12. Do you have pets? nah </3 pet free house unfortunately

13. How tall are you? 5′6

14. Favorite subject in school? always loved history

15. Dream job? always wanted something to do with game design, but right now it's looking more like 3D animator and digital effects artist in movies. something in the general area my degree's going to be in

tagging uhhh @coma--dreams @dannybonesbury @rars @hipstersoulgushers @7vhs @taeryung @websurfshark @cowardly-conduct @candlecanoe (erm. i do not even have 15 moots i don't think. btw y'all are not obligated to do this if u don't want to ofc lol)

[meat-huge-pain-endless]

huge vent post feel free to ignore✌️

tw just in case tho for depression, anxiety, suicide/suicidal ideation, death, disordered eating, drug use, dissociation, depersonalization, and derealization

i need someone to come put a straight jacket on me i ruin everything i fucking touch i don’t want to be a bother but im desperate to be known so i spill my guts just for them to get trampled. and i really do let everyone walk all over me. i assume that every other human being on the planet knows better than me about everything and i will tolerate literally an treatment so long as you’re a little bit nice to me sometimes, or even if you just tell me that you are ill probably believe you. my self esteem is so fucking low plus i can’t ever rlly tell what’s true anymore. my memory is so fucking bad like the amount of times a day i forget what im saying mid-sentence and then forget what i had just said and then forget what i was even talking about in the first place is genuinely embarassing. it’s so fucking humiliating actually like i am so out of it all of the time and i can never tell if it’s bc im dissociating or bc im dehydrated or bc i didn’t sleep or bc i haven’t eaten or bc i forgot to take my adhd meds or bc i hit the pen at 9:30am again or bc i DIDNT hit the pen but i have brain fog from smoking the night before and at this point it’s probably all of it all the time like it is so bad. ive never been worse in my life i don’t think. again i wouldn’t rlly know. all my memories feel a million miles away. im alone in my dorm room rn bc my roommate and our other friend went to our other other friend’s dorm to hang out. if i think about it too hard ill probably start crying. i was crying before they were even out the door.

everyone told me college is where you meet “your people.” the friends you have for the rest of your life. why do i have about 3 friends total (as in i actually hang out with them outside of classes/club meetings/school events/etc) and why do none of them feel like they’re actually my friends. oh wait actually i know why that is. it’s because i don’t feel like im real when im at college. that’s how i felt last year (like school year, and it was awful btw, thought it was the worst year of my life but then this semester happened and now im not so sure) but it just occurred to me that im feeling the same way except this time i wasn’t so alarmed by it bc i got used to it. like this is baseline college feeling for me. the worst part of it all is that everything is actually all my fault. like for real not sarcasm. my anxiety is so fucking severe and i didn’t realize it at all until recently when i started having more frequent panic attacks. i cry most days. i hyperventilate way too easily. i walk thru the world just going about my everyday life with the anxiety levels of an animal being hunted for sport. like literally if i accidentally do something wrong in public like the smallest tiniest stupidest mistake like pushing on a pull door or something i get so embarrassed it like so very seriously and genuinely the idea of people thinking that im stupid or laughing at me makes me want to die like seriously kill myself dead and i cannot overstate that im so scared of what people thjnk of me all the time.

oh and did i mention i also literally never stop thinking? overanalyzing everything i do and say and everything everyone else does and says to me and im always worried that my friends hate me or secretly think im an awful person or im thinking about things that they might potentially hate me for later down the line and sometimes i try to preemptively circumvent that by randomly being like “hey if i ever [insert thing im worried might potentially make them not like me anymore] just know that it’s not because [reason i think it might make them potentially not like me]” OH and i also all the time will ask my friends if they think im a bad person which is like so insane of me actually like why the fuck do i do that THIS IS WHAT I MEANT AT THE BEGINNING!!!! PUT ME IN A STRAIGHTJACKET CUT OFF MY GODDAMN HANDS JUST PLEASE DO SOMETHJNG because no matter what i fucking do i always end up crawling to SOMEONE to beg them for reassurance or tell them something that will make them worry about me (sometimes im not even aware im doing that one!) because i just need someone to care. i need someone to care about me or else im not real. (i feel like i only exist contextually but i don’t have time to get into all that right now). but then i get embarrassed for needing something. the fact that i have needs and wants and desires is the most embarrassing thing in the world. asking for what i want and need is the most mortifying torturous experience in the world. i hate being vulnerable.

i want to be cared for without judgement. i want to stop feeling like i am hard to like and even harder to love. i want to stop feeling tired all the time. i want to stop feeling miserable all the time. i want to feel like im real, like i actually exist. i don’t want to die, but i don’t want to live either. i think the only thing about death that still scares me is the fact that i would have to go alone. but the idea of infinite nothingness sounds like a dream. it’s so loud in my head all the time. i just want it all to stop.

[runninguplenorahills]

Heyy, thank you sm for the tag💗💗

1: Are you named after anyone?

-> No. I do share my name with a celeb though but well, not on purpose.

2: When was the last time you cried?

-> I don’t really keep track lmao but I think last week?

3: Do you have kids?

-> Absolutely fucking not!

4: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

-> Maybe sometimes but really not that often.

5: What’s the first thing you notice about people?

-> I really don’t pay attention to what I notice first 💀 like…… I notice everything all at once? Idk!?!!?

6: What’s your eye color?

-> ✨brown✨

7: Scary movies or happy endings?

-> I actually used to really enjoy scary movies when I was younger but at some point in my life I just started getting so anxious whenever I watched something scary. So definitely happy endings! I like ending a movie on a high note :) Sad movies are good too but sad endings are just too much emotional damage🪦

8: Any special talents?

-> I’m pretty good at poetry [the weird “poems”/“songs” I’ve written on here are all dumb on purpose btw! But the rhymes still kinda slay hahaha]

And I can very easily memorize things. Story time: for one of my french exams we already got the prompt for the creative writing task which was “Christmas”. We were basically supposed to talk about how we celebrate christmas and how that differs from how French people traditionally celebrate Christmas. So I had the prompt but the problem was that I fucking suck at French! I literally cannot form a single sentence! So what did I do? I wrote two pages worth of how I celebrate Christmas and how French people celebrate Christmas, put it into google translate [I know, outrageous. But it worked haha] and copied the french version like three or four times. I had it all memorized and the next day during the exam I just immediately turned to the page with the creative writing task and wrote it all down. Two fucking pages of French without thinking at all because it all sat at the top of my head!! Got a pretty good grade for that as well haha.

9: Where were you born?

-> Germany

10: What are your hobbies?

-> Reading, writing, drawing/painting, roller skating/ice skating, sewing, and I guess analyzing stranger things 😭 like, that honestly became a real hobby ngl!

11: Do you have any pets?

-> Yes, a dog <3 :)

12: What sports do you play/ have you played?

-> I used to be in a hockey club but not for that long and I just never really stuck with sports anyway lmao. I do love roller skating and ice skating though.

13: How tall are you?

-> Bro, like 5’3?

14: favorite subject in school?

-> I’m not in school anymore but my favorite subjects were Biology, English and Art.

15: Dream Job?

-> Teacher

tags:

@p0megranamanat @paladin-n-cleric @booksandpaperss @axquiva @geolikesstrangerthings @significant-ace-nnoyance @adorewillbyers @theonebyler @there-was-a-hole-here-itsgonenow @plethoreya @maxine-in-march @kittykat940 @jazz-penguin // no pressure of course + sorry if you’ve been tagged already <33

15 questions, 15 people

I feel like I might've done this before? I forgor

tagged by @asbealthgn

1. Are you named after anyone?

kinda sorta- I changed one of my names to my grandma's last name because she's my hero

2. When was the last time you cried?

like yesterday I think (death of a book character)

3. Do you have kids?

FUCK NO

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

yeah but I can't tell if I use it too much ya know?

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

their eyes I guess? either that or nose because I'm short

6. What's your eye color?

very dark brown

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings, I'm a big baby

8. Any special talents?

I can copy pretty much any drawing without needing to trace

9. Where were you born?

east coast united states

10. What are your hobbies?

just reading and playing video games (slime rancher, minecraft, and stardew are my go-tos)

11. Do you have any pets?

three dogs and a cat

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I played baseball when I was 7, I miss it

13. How tall are you?

5'3" (ew)

14. Favorite subject in school?

science! english class took the joy out of writing

15. Dream job?

don't judge ok: youtuber/streamer (cringe ik)

tag list: @kinddogg @beep-beep-robin @rat-teefs @navnae @unclewaynemunson @dictionarydyke @steviesbicrisis @princessstevemunson @strawberryspence @legitcookie @azrielgreen @infinite-orangepeel @hey-rowan @stevethehairington @heavenlycrashes

[namtanlovesfilm]

i dont really like how they are making foei's character this touchy misogynistic dude

yeah.............. but also if you've watched the revenge, you know foei is REALLY good in those kinds of roles. also sadly gunsmile & foei are the gmmtv actors who kinda look like gangsters / bad guys (so far from the truth lmao they're both puppies), so they almost exclusively get those roles sadly :/// also excited to see off fighting men who hurt women in his three roles this year: foei in astrophile, ohm in 10 years ticket, and of course my baby mond in midnight motel!!! off destroyer of the patriarchy, we love to see it 😌😌😌

xxx

[ozomatli]

elias described my blog as "someone whos definitely going thru it but doesnt want to inconvenience anyone" like first of allnjsut bc i asked doesnt mean you have ti tell me