#like no babe she isn't

[dollypopup]

saying the only confirmed asexual character is the most likely to cheat on his wife is absolutely WILD. like Colin Bridgerton? THE Colin Bridgerton? Who just about couldn't have sex without an emotional connection to the other person? and when he WAS he was almost completely disassociating from the moment? That man would cheat on his wife Penelope, the woman he very obviously loves and has respected long before they were in a romantic relationship? The Colin Bridgerton who has the best track record for respecting the women around him regardless of whether they were providing something for him? The Colin Bridgerton who listens to women and wears his heart on his sleeve? Colin Bridgerton who's coping mechanism when he's dealing with heartbreak is literally abstinence? The Colin Bridgerton who chose to marry Penelope actively every step of the way and ends season 3 happy as can be smooching his wife? THAT Colin Bridgerton? Would take on a mistress? AHAHAHAHAHA

Whatever you're taking I want some of it, because that's a level of delusion I think would be very fun to experience.

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[courtmartialme]

woag .. otp

[livwritesstuff]

Today was a bittersweet day – the last day of the three-month parental leave Steve had taken when their daughter Robbie was born before he headed back to his counseling job.

Eddie knows that Steve is feeling torn a few different ways about going back to work.

On the one hand, Steve loves his job, and he’d worked his ass off earning his doctorate so he could be a trauma therapist just like he’d planned. Kids had also been a part of his plan, obviously, but as more of an in addition to type of way, rather than instead of when it came to his career. Eddie knows this, and he knows that Steve is excited to go back, to reconnect with his patients after three months apart.

Eddie also knows that their kids are everything to Steve in a way his job will never be (duh), and Eddie had seen the way Steve refused to ignore the gravity of today – the last day he doesn’t have to share his time with anything other than their daughters.

Steve had been emotional about going back to work in a similar way the first time around with Moe, and he’d called home about eight or nine times during his first day back in the office, asking how things were going and if he’d missed anything. Now, Moe is two-and-a-half (and some change, if they’re being technical), and Robbie just hit the three-month mark a few days ago. This time, Steve had done his best to split his time between their two daughters, and it’s not all that different from their normal day-to-day, honestly, just…something heavier in the air, maybe.

Now, Moe’s all fresh and clean from her bath, her bangs slicked back with the rest of her damp hair (Steve had put on a whole show of planting kisses all over her forehead and saying, “is this where you’ve been hiding your brilliant brain from us?” which always sends Moe into giggling hysterics), and Steve’s got her all bundled up in a big fluffy towel, snuggling her close with one arm as he balances Robbie on his chest with the other, all of them piled into a rocking chair while Eddie sits stretched out on Robbie’s rug.

“I’m probably not gonna be home when you wake up tomorrow morning,” Steve tells Moe, and it’s not the first time he’s brought up this particular subject today, but, y’know…toddlers. Really gotta nail in the point sometimes with toddlers, “‘Cause I’m going back to work, so I have to leave early to drive into Boston.”

“Why do you hafta drive to Boston?” Moe asked.

“Because that’s where my office is. Remember a few weeks ago when we visited my office?”

“Yeah and they met Robbie.”

“That’s right,” Steve nodded, “Everyone I work with met Robbie. I got to take a break from work when Robbie was born, and now it’s time for me to go back.”

Moe’s eyebrows are furrowed.

“But…I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, bug,” he tells her, “I miss you and Robbie and Daddy like crazy when I’m not home with you.”

“So why don’t you take more break?”

“I sorta took all the break I’m allowed to, sweet pea. It’s time for me to go back to work.”

Eddie looks at Moe, sees the cogs turning in her little brain as she tries to figure out a way to convince her dad to stay home with her.

“But what if you just don’t work anymore?”

It’s a good question, Eddie knows, and she’s not the only one asking it.

Not too long after Robbie’s arrival, when Max and El had come to visit and meet the new baby, Max had privately asked Eddie if he thought Steve might throw in the towel on the whole career thing this time around. Again, it’s a fair question for anybody who really knows Steve, anybody who sees how much he loves their kids and how much he loves being a dad, even if Eddie knows the answer is no. Still, it’s a close no.

Steve hums sympathetically, “Maybe someday, but I like my job. I get to help people, and I worked hard in school to be able to do that. Someday you might decide you want to have a job where you do more school and get special degrees.”

“Like what kinds of jobs?”

“Like a doctor or a lawyer, or maybe you want to work in a lab and do research on something. It’s a big world, Moe, and you can do whatever you set your mind to."

"I want to be an astronaut," Moe tells them.

"Well, there you go."

"Or I wanna be a cookie."

"Oh-" Steve's eyebrows furrow as Eddie starts to laugh. "Alright..."

"That's my girl," Eddie says, "Astronaut or pastry. I like it."

[lerios]

also wow Romana is COMICALLY corrupt lmao. like queen i love you but holy shit

"i dont have friends, just allies" yes bitch, because you keep elevating your only friends to political positions and destroying laws so that you can force your point on your pet causes 😭

2 episodes ago she was making dodgy backroom deals with known criminals because She Wanted To and anything is permissible to her if She Wants To. she knows Brax is committing 24/7 crime and its fine because her besties can do whatever they want. no shit she's a good candidate to become imperiatrix, she fundamentally sees no real issue with herself having ultimate power, that's practically what she's already doing lmao 🙃

like bestie WHAT is wrong with you. i went into this series expecting the main personal problem to be Narvin being a wet pathetic neurotic babyman but god Romana is a legitimate fucking car crash already (politically and otherwise)

[cozylittleartblog]

clown hours

new deltarune newsletter. i dont know how many characters are featured across the 50-ish valentines but i want it on record i only got queen and rouxls among mine. you will look at them

obviously toby fox knows my email personally somehow and knew exactly who to send me (joke. but also what are the odds)

[fromtheseventhhell]

Imagine being 9 years old and asking your dad about the things you're interested in doing when you grow up and he's like "No ❤️! But you can get married, have babies, and then maybe your sons can do those things ☺️🫶 "

[yashley]

ashley in c3e25

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

favourite twdg villain?

I'm a fond enjoyer of the St. John's as villains. I don't know if they're my favorite just because they're only in one episode, but I love the concept of this family almost immediately jumping into cannibalism toward the start of the outbreak, dealing in human flesh to bandits, and casually feeding this group their friend's legs.

Like... what the hell was this family like before the outbreak that all three of them were like, "Hey now listen... nothing should go to waste, the dead are eating people so why shouldn't we? We gotta survive and in our defense, we only target those who were gonna die anyway... like y'all."

Dude, Mark was shot in this shoulder with an arrow. He wasn't going to die from that injury. It's so fucked that these seemingly friendly people took the group into their home and then fed them Mark's legs.

If we take the idea that everyone is infected and have the capacity within themselves to become walkers, to become monsters, then the St. John's were infected long before the outbreak, y'know? Not literally, but something was wrong with them and the outbreak just further spread that infection and changed them.

But again, are they my favorite? I dunno if I can say that since I have a lot more appreciation for Lily now. Yeah, some of her writing gets a little wonky in ep3 of TFS when she goes on her monologues and shit, but y'know what? I'm into it.

You have to remember who we're talking about and the fact that she's the antagonist; Lily isn't some anti-hero in TFS who secretly has a heart of gold that's brought to light because she reunited with Clementine... she's a fucked up woman who did fucked up things in the name of survival. She's full of rot now. She sees kidnapping children and turning them into soldiers to protect her home as a means to an end, but she doesn't actually give a shit about the people she's taking. They aren't people to her, they're as the episode title suggests, toys in her game. The only one she sees as a person is Clementine, and while that makes her hesitate at first, she sees Clementine's a prize to bring back.

She remembers what happened in S1; her father had a heart attack and as she tried to save him, Kenny smashed his face in with a saltlick and then expected Lily to just stand up and help him get back to his family because "he did what he had to, he made the hard choice." Yes, Larry was a piece of shit. No one liked him, and you can even question Lily on him and she'll tell you that he has a lot of pain. Yes, it makes him an asshole, but he's still her dad and he's all she has. I mean... the simplification is daddy issues, but in all seriousness, I don't doubt for a second that many of Lily's issues stem from Larry being a shitty father to her.

Then everyone thought she was losing it when she insisted there was a traitor in the group, which she was right about, but she was unstable. She was unwell, but how do you help someone like that when you don't have training to go about it? Then Lily ends up killing either Carley or Doug and the group turns on her, and either she's left behind or she steals the van and runs away.

Then we don't know what the hell happened to her until we see her again in TFS, but like... a lone woman with decay festering inside of her joining the delta? Exposing her to their methods? I mean, what else did she have to lose? She had nothing, she lost everything, and she has a lot of issues. Survival is easy when you're numb, when you don't care about the individual; they're all just cogs churning to make the system run, and if a piece doesn't cooperate, you get rid of it and find a new one.

Plus I think there's something to say about Lily not wanting to be perceived as weak again. That whole display she put on in the cells? Telling the story of what happened to Minerva and Sophie? I get the criticism that it feels like Lily did a 180 between episodes but like... yeah dude, because it's a performance. It's not just her and Clementine anymore. It's a display of power and authority. She's playing the part and thriving in it as she ensures everyone else is terrified of her.

But then when Clementine and AJ get the upper hand? Again, she's not afraid to play up the pleading to earn enough sympathy to spare her- hell, just to let their guard down enough to strike and get the upper hand again. I mean, she's got nothing else to lose, right? If she doesn't go for it, she'll be killed and sure, you can kill her anyway but at least she tried.

Honestly, I look at Lily in TFS and still see that scared little girl playing the tough bitch, just like Carley said in S1. It's just now escalated from "tough bitch" to a downright vile person. She's so... lost? I suppose? Lost within herself and the monstrous means she's taken to survive.

I get the criticisms of how she was used in TFS, but for me, it's like when people complain about Minerva not getting the redemption arc she supposedly should've gotten, y'know? There's no saving her. Lily was never on our side, and there was no getting her on our side. She wasn't ever going to redeem herself. Even if you spare her and she drifts away on her raft, can someone like her actually find redemption? Or will she just find another group that'll feed into her rot?

Truly, I say let her be horrid. Let her be the piece of shit villain with a few fleeting moments of humanity. Let her drown in the blood she's spilled.

[daisychainsandbowties]

Lilith in N7 armor, though…

It may or may not surprise you to know that I actually have a whole mass effect au planned out in my head. I just…. Yeah. Ava Silva and the weight of the world on her shoulders. Ava Silva giving exclusive sponsorship to every single tech and weapons shop on the Citadel. Ava Silva with her aquarium and her pet hamster and a shadow longer than her life.

Ava Silva, waking up to fire in the sky above Mindoir. Ships blotting out the sky and the trees a smear of sound and heat and light outside her window. It’s enough to make them burst inward, waking her in time to save her life.

Boots in the hall of their little house and her mother running inside the room, pushing the dresser she made out of this planet up against the door they brought with them from the stars. Ava doesn’t know anything but this place – the grass crunchy in winter and the flowers in spring and the leaves in autumn and all the sunsets in summer.

Her mother has old scars on her hands and an old rifle she keeps under her bed and an old set of armour she wears now. It’s broken open across her chest and the gauntlets are cracked, falling onto the wood floor as she looks for Ava, finds her by the window in a halo of broken glass.

It’s weird, too see her smiling and bleeding at the same time.

There’s a second red heart on her chest, and when she speaks she leaves blood spatter on Ava’s forearms. Clutches at her so tightly that Ava is certain she could never let her go, but then she’s smoothing Ava’s hair off her face, tucking strands behind her ear.

She carries Ava to the window – she’s nine, too big for carrying and she squirms but her mother’s grip is iron. The grass is still wet from overnight rain, somehow, even backlit as they both are by fire. The shape of tall trees in her mother’s eyes which are just the same colour as hers. Brown like earth.

The door to Ava’s bedroom splinters and the last thing Ava hears as she’s pushed onto her back – out of sight and out of reach – is her mother telling her to run. This she knows how to do, running laps around the track at school while the other kids are still stretching out their legs. She knows how to do it alone in the woods around their house or down toward the lake, pretending to chase birds or her own shadow.

Ava, running and always, forever after this, running. Away from town, from home, with an old Alliance beacon in her hand, blinking like a red eye against her palm.

They’ll find you, she’d whispered, pressing it wet into Ava’s small hand, and they did.

When the Alliance come they find Ava. Just her. They ask her questions but all she can tell them about is fire, and sitting in the old cabin by the lake, underneath the floorboards with bugs the size of her hands crawling in the dirt around her. Staring at the beacon until she slept again. Woke again. Slept again.

Ten years later she’s on Akuze and everyone she trained with is dead around her. She’s fresh out of basic training and her armour belonged to someone else before her, ill-fitting at the shoulders and the hips. Her greaves rattle when she walks, and everyone teases her about it and then she’s running past pieces of them.

The creature responsible bleeds so much when it dies, and its insides burn where they touch Ava’s skin. When they find her, she’s carrying a fistful of dog tags, spends a week in a medi-gel bath regrowing a fifth of her skin. They recruit her straight into the N7 program, and some nights, sitting in various drop-ships eating expired ration bars, or gunning down mercs, she wonders if her mother would recognise her anymore. They were supposed to be farmers.

Then Eden Prime, the beacon and a Turian called Adriel who wants to bring about the end of the world. She meets an odd archaeologist on a lonely dig site and her name is Beatrice. A sniper on the Citadel called Shannon, who likes to wear blue. Their pilot, Mary, has a knack for pissing everyone off and a soft spot for Ava.

She sits in the mess late at night, when the ship’s circadian lights make everything dim and secret, drinking coffee with too much creamer and listening to Beatrice talk about the Protheans.

It's the wrong time to fall in love.

They win, eventually, and Ava is quietly side-lined for saying too much, too loudly about the Reapers, who want to come down from the sky and burn everything, like the slavers burned her home once upon a time.

And then she dies.

Her body, burned by the mouth of a planet upon re-entry, finds its way into the hands of a shadow organisation called Cerberus, who call her Lazarus and bring her back from the dead. She wakes up full of hairline fractures, her face trying to break open, bleeding red light like her once-small fingers, like running away again and waking up to flashlights, strange voices. Everything about life is circular.

She wakes in the hands of a girl with designer blood and bones not quite as handmade as Ava’s, but close. Her name is Lilith, and the first thing she tells Ava is that the galaxy hasn’t run out of ways to use her just yet.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

You know it's dire when I start referring to Heathcliff with pet names.

[gen-is-gone]

hrgh every time I think I've come close to forgiving lance fucking parkin I skim the gallifrey chronicles. and then I remember the Horrors.

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce snippet

Hands clasped perfect- it was perfection or screaming, she just needed to hold on, just needed to keep herself steady, Nesta needed time- Elain stared back. “Why what, Feyre?” “You,” Feyre wiped her pink nose, even her flush a thing of otherworldly, rosy exquisiteness, “You’re so angry. You won’t- you won’t let anyone help. Won’t- what you said to Rhys, what you did to Mor- we’re all on the same side, Elain.” Feyre made a horrible little noise, threw up her hands, “You wouldn’t even bring Nesta to her bedroom.” Something in Elain cracked. Her bedroom. Feyre had come to their home, to where they’d built all the while a place for her, and refused it. Slept in a cold unmade room, under the eye of some monstrous High Fae Lord, who’d told her she was the one in danger. That Feyre, an Archeron, was not safe on her own blood-sworn estate, the only bit of their birthright that could ever have saved them. It was all gone now. Everything was gone, and here Feyre was- perfect, immortal, unhurt, weeping- not asking where the hundreds of humans they were responsible for had landed. If the guards, under her own damned Court, had survived.

No, she wanted to know why Elain would reject the absurd hospitality they’d been shown. Three damned rooms, in three different gods-damned wings.

It might as well had been audible. Elain felt like the furrow should have been visible, hot blood streaming from her chest. Not blood- not simple heat- fire, alive, incandescent. Red ruddy blooming gold behind her eyes, a thousand withering blossoms overtaken into something beautiful too. It was not unlike holding, wearing that crown- it was a rupturing, utter magic, to just feel what she’d been feeling and let it out. “Nesta,” Elain kept her motion slow, precise, standing to back toward Lucien, away, safe, in control, “Told you exactly what would happen. I told you. We are not on the same side, Feyre. Do you understand?” “Hybern,” Feyre’s voice pitched, half a shout, “Will kill us all. We need to stand united. Rhys”- “Rhysand,” Lucien interrupted, all a forest shadow, suddenly both so dark and so bright he was impossibly to look away from.“Is not our High Lord.” “He saved my life.” “What part,” Fae and then some, a hiss of temper, Lucien right at the end of his rope, firelight seething off his skin with no clear source, air stinging with something harsher than smoke, “Of saving you, were the drugs, Feyre? Did he save you, by having you stripped bare before crowds? What does it cost you, to be the face of a war he cannot win? Has he not humiliated you enough?”

[cosmogyros]

You know what's absolutely wild? Something I will never be able to wrap my mind around? Something that fills me with RAGE?!?

The fact that Phil Spector could see something like this – these sparkling ladies, overflowing with charisma and beauty and talent and charm – and decide to marry their lead singer and promptly forbid her from making music any more. And treat her like this (bolding is mine, to point out a few of the most egregious details):

Ronnie and Phil Spector began having an affair soon after she was signed to his label in 1963. Early in their relationship, she was unaware that he was married. Once, Ronnie was apprehended by house detectives for prostitution at the Delmonico Hotel in New York City after leaving a room they had booked. She was allowed to call Phil, who threatened the hotel, and then they allowed her to leave. After Phil divorced his wife in 1965, he purchased a home in Beverly Hills, where he lived with Ronnie. They married at Beverly Hills City Hall on April 14, 1968. Ronnie changed her surname and became known as Ronnie Spector. Their son Donté Phillip was adopted in 1969. Two years later, Phil surprised her for Christmas with adopted twins, Louis and Gary. Ronnie alleged in her 1990 memoir that following their marriage, Phil subjected her to years of psychological torment and sabotaged her career by forbidding her to perform. She said he surrounded their house with barbed wire and guard dogs, and confiscated her shoes to prevent her from leaving; on the rare occasions he allowed her out alone, she had to drive with a life-size dummy of Phil. She stated that Phil installed a gold coffin with a glass top in the basement, promising that he would kill her and display her corpse if she ever left him. She began drinking and attending Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meetings to escape the house. In 1972, Ronnie fled their mansion barefoot and without any belongings, with the help of her mother. "I knew that if I didn't leave I was going to die there," she said. In their 1974 divorce settlement, Ronnie forfeited all future record earnings, alleging that Phil had threatened to have a hit man kill her. She received $25,000, a used car, and monthly alimony of $2,500 for five years. She later testified that Phil had frequently pulled a gun on her during their marriage and threatened to kill her unless she surrendered custody of their children. She tried to rebuild her career, keeping Spector's surname professionally because "I needed any way I could to get back in, I'd been kept away so long." According to her, Phil hired lawyers to prevent her singing her popular songs and denied her royalties. In 1988, the Ronettes sued Phil for $10 million in damages, rescission of the contract, the return of the masters, and recoupment of money received from the sale of Ronettes masters. It took 10 years for the case to make it to trial. After a prolonged legal battle, the court ruled that their contract gave Phil unconditional rights to the recordings but Ronnie was entitled to her share of royalties.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Omg...... Like Mother, Like Daughter is doomed Yuri (half yuri? One sided yuri?). TT0TT Sol doesn't feel the same way I'm pretty sure (sadly), but Som is DEF down bad. TT0TT And Som's not exactly the most mentally stable jakfjdksalfj (I think she has a bit of a "Sol's my pet" vibe going on as well. Som means well but she is NOT healthy either jfakslfj oh this is just going to be a fucking wreck I'm ready let's GO!)

(spoilers under cut, also under cut cause length and pictures)

Like she saw the boy Sol is hanging out with and was just ">:("

*sobbing* She is SO DONE when she finds out they are dating TT0TT

*sobs* ahhhh! klasjfdk OhmyGOAD SHE is tREMBLING as Sol tells her how she got with the guy TT0TT

She is literally SULLEN that Sol and guy have been dating FOR A MONTH! she looks os SICK TT0TT

My poor girl is literally doing the Arthur fist clench with her fist TT0TT

Som! Som! Girlie! I don't think this is just a friendship for you anymore.

LKFJDASKLFJKLAJFKL WAIT

"Anyone can see at first glance that he's good for nothing. But how does she not see that?"

OHHHHH MY GOD SHE'S LIEK 'HE SMELLY. HE STANK. HE POOR. HE BROKE. HE TOO NORMAL FOR HER." GURL! GET OFF THE FLOOOOOR!

"To be honest, I wish they'd break up" NO YOU DON'T SAY???? nEVER WOULD'VE GUESS!

Oh I was just here for the matricide but I've been blessed with more angst! Let's goooooo!!!!!!!!!

[moki-dokie]

personally i fucking hate the british drinking culture it's just basically a countrywide fasttrack to alocholism and i hate hate hate hate seeing my friends fall into it and think its no biggie because Thats Just How It Is.

idk. take the piss all you want about americans and our shitty watered down beer and how nobody can handle their booze but i'd rather have that than being in a state of drunk every single fucking day. sorry not sorry but you shouldn't be going through an entire fucking bottle of whiskey every five fucking days. it isn't cute. it isn't funny. it isn't a way of life. thats addiction buddy. if you can't get through your days without being in a state of intoxication, thats a problem.

its a sad and desperate method of coping thinly veiled as fun and blowing off steam.

its not exclusive to brits either but thats where i happen to have people i love and care about. idk man i just don't get it. not saying we don't have issues over here bc we definitely do but like, alcoholism is one of the easier issues to curb and we do at least make a better effort at it than a hell of a lot of other places.

when i was younger i used to think it was just people being prude and puritanical about so many restrictions on booze but after growing up and realizing the serious damage growing up with two severe alcoholics did to me, i just do not understand why the rest of the world doesn't seem to take it seriously at all.