#let’s dissect her

[hsslilly-blog]

thinking about that one ask about claire getting into genetics/biology as a child but shes literally an ivf baby. i think biology would be a natural curiosity to her

[ministarfruit]

day 28: made you smile ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

[the-crooked-library]

opened tiktok (mistake number one, i know) and immediately saw someone saying that Thomas Hutter subverts the "disbelieving husband" trope which... listen i love a thoroughly pathetic mess of a man myself and i get that Ellen's other option is a 400yo evil corpse, but can we please not give him credit for things he didn't do?..

the literal inciting incident of the story is that Thomas DOESN'T listen to Ellen. he doesn't believe her. she tells him that she's got a bad feeling about this trip, begs him not to go, tells him about her nightmare - and what does he do? he calls it a childish fantasy, tells her to stop worrying, and implies that she would benefit from talking to a doctor. saying shit softly doesn't make it any less dismissive or insulting, like i'm sorry but this is peak Disbelieving Husband in a Horror Movie behaviour. he only changed his mind once Orlok put him through the horrors himself, which is also a perfectly standard thing for a Disbelieving Husband to do in the second act. furthermore, from the beginning of the film, he neglects Ellen's emotional needs, is uncomfortable with her abnormalities, and doesn't even really know what sort of gifts she likes - and again, these are all standard flaws for a Disbelieving Husband to exhibit. they're indicative of a disconnect between him and his wife that he continuously refuses to bridge.

caring for someone doesn't mean you can't neglect or harm them, and that applies to everyone - including Normal People like Thomas, like Harding, like Sievers, like the viewer; and that's the point of the film

[punk-octo]

Grace Howard you are such a fucking freak I love you

[thealdersgateoffice]

Ok but can we talk about Lamb in this scene, and Gary’s performance. What do you see in his face in the space of those few seconds after she gets her bag from the car, after he’s told her what Partner did, and leaves? Personally, in the first gif, I think we can see him grappling with what he’s just revealed to her, and I can see regret, and even guilt. There’s a moment where he’s thinking ‘Oh fuck, what have I done?’. Maybe a shred of disbelief that she’s actually going to walk 30 miles home by herself, and contemplation of going after her and telling her to get in the car. She knows some of it, and she’s gone: how will she react if he tells her the whole truth?

But in the second gif, it’s all gone in a snap. After that one look away, a very brief moment to steady himself, he looks back in her direction and the wall is back up. Fuck it. He accepts what’s just happened. She knows now - at least, knows some of it - and she’s made her choice. He needs to get back to Slough House and back to doing what he always does. Let her walk.

All that in about five seconds. Bravo Mr Oldman.

[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.

[moldy-crumbs]

[spicyspell]

Dinner time! (Ludmilla edition)

[child-of-plut0]

shoko brainworms taking over

[marigoldbaker]

i think more people should give women a tragic backstory and a dead husband fridged for the sake of her character growth. this is why i am really into the way they handled nate in leverage redemption btw

[19catsncounting]

"No one gives us the right - we take it" functions as Lucifer's understanding of economy and commerce To Me.

Like, unless you fill the primordial void with fully sapient aliens, Lucifer either accidentally invented the first economy with the soul trade with Cain or had no idea that demons were going to go around making crossroads deals. But he might just deadass think that if you're powerful enough, you can take things. Money just functions as a measurable powerscale because humans are half-blind little worms even to each other. (If Lucifer knew about Sam and Dean hustling pool and running credit card scams, this fits perfectly inside his economic model - they're vessels, they're powerful. Why don't they take more money, or a few houses?)

All of that is to say that so far, Lucifer thinks it's impossible for him to steal things. Putting gas in his car? The humans put the gas in the ground and he just needs to flip a little switch inside the pump machine. It would only be stealing if he couldn't do that. It's the failed attempt at stealing that's actually a sin.

[welcome-to-somnolence]

I wore my whole Precious Moments outfit today (shirt, locket, and two brooches). A girl complimented the accessories before telling me about her childhood Precious Moments plush with a music box. It was very sweet!

[10-59]

finally getting to the grunge unit in my history of rock&roll class yayyyy yippeeee yayyyyyyy

[iwatcheditbegin]

one of the most fascinating ( ie concerning) parts of the fandom is the way many People feel so connected to Taylor but they also need to see themselves in her. To a point of extreme projection; needing her to have a husband and kids. or being upset at the very idea she might want that. Or claiming she’s actually gay and in a secret marriage. Or dissecting her behaviors and diagnosing her with things she’s never disclosed.

I’m not sure it’s a product of being brought up online or smth else. Idk how it is in other fandoms, but I definitely think Swiftes feel a very strong sense of ownership over Taylor that is very unusual

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

Controversial opinion I think she over corrected from doing to much with Joe to actively not choosing her relationship at times. Like when she will only ever spend two days in KC but would follow Joe and still work. You can see where she put more into then she does now. I know we aren’t supposed to think that but there it is

I disagree. She’s spending A LOT of time with Travis whenever she can and vice versa. The problem wasn’t her moving work to where Joe was, the problem was that he wouldn’t put in the same effort.

[storiesbreathed]

here’s my tashi hot take number one brought to you by one watch and the strong want to rewatch and also the people i watched the movie with hating on her the entire time and no one else. so, before i say anything, would tashi brutally murder both the boys with her bare hands for a chance to play tennis again? yes. is tennis the absolute most important thing in her life? yes. is tashi a good person? no. not at all. is tashi living through art’s tennis and hence wants him to do more and more and is she a master manipulator? without doubt, but this all being said i simply think it would be absolutely bullshit to say taishi doesn’t care about the boys at all beyond their success ( because their success is her success but that’s a whole other ramble ). is it love? yes and no, at least not in the typical sense ( but i do think it’s the closest tashi really can get to love but again thats a whole other ramble ! ) bow this care is in particular is centered around their tennis playing but it, like her character, is complex and there are other layers to it.

it’s not a healthy care or love and there’s so much anger and hatred there for various things ( which can be a whole other ramble, a sentence i hope you get used to reading ) but i would like to point out first and foremost but i would like to point out how absolutely angry she is after art first started his manipulation to get with her, how pissed she was when patrick didn’t show to the game and in general, that fight, and, again, that whispered line after telling art she’d leave him if he didn’t win ( “is that what you need to hear?” —) and her face?! she simply hated saying it and i think it was a bit of an extreme and she knew it, but she also knew if that game had went any different than it had; then yes, things would have changed but it would not change her own feelings which are there and OBVIOUS in her face but can so easily be dismissed by looking at her words and actions .

and beyond that, tashi didn’t HAVE to marry art, they didn’t HAVE to have a kid together. tashi didn’t have to date patrick after giving him her number ( for a Decent amount of time too? )

tldr- and i hope they hope this makes Sense , tennis is her soulmate, her true love, the boys ( yes, both of them, because again my watch group was like wow she only loves pat, and i again say, No ) do come in second but she does care and want nothing but the best for them ( she’s taking care of her little white boys 👏👏👏 and she also is taking care of herself 👏 because she has to- she’s had to and she struggles to even let the Boys take care of her and doesn’t know what to do with that but that’s a whole other ramble ;) ) tashi may be a user, a manipulator, a cheater but she is not emotionless. she cares about a few selective things, and the boys are two of them and a high two on that list. she struggles and won’t let herself acknowledge more than that.

anyhow will you get tashi’s start in tennis next and all the manipulation she had to do to get to the top and how it’s manifested into her problematic traits, on tashi being a better mom than i gave her credit for ( not a stellar one, far from it but oh could i talk about tashi and motherhood ) or will you get a dissection of her feelings on both the boys as years roll by individually and together next 😘