#thief of joy

[batwynn]

Hey.

You’re going to get people telling you that you can’t enjoy anything because Bad Things are happening.

It’s always been a thing with people, but it’s especially bad right now as a certain chunk of white Americans are starting to experience certain Bad Things for the first time. They’re overwhelmed with it, unpracticed in being targeted and/or even affected by this kind of stuff. So they’ll pop up on your post about making pottery, or being happy with your partner, or a shout out to your nice parents, and they’ll be full of righteous anger at you. They’ll be convinced that you aren’t ‘doing your part’ of the suffering, that the world should stop turning because now it’s finally happening to them. How dare you be happy, they’ll say, when something Important and Urgent, and Bad is happening to me?! And, no, they won’t get the hypocrisy so don’t bother pointing at their selfies at the cafe, their brand new cars, the millions of kisses shared in public with their partners while Bad Things have been happening outside of their personal space. Because they won’t remember that version of themselves. They won’t remember that people can be multifaceted. They won’t remember that joy does not have to be the cost of having knowledge of suffering, and compassion for others. They are experiencing the Bad Things, and it’s all encompassing.

Instead, continue to be happy, continue to share it, and enjoy the things you do. Because most of us have already been in these trenches for a long while now, some even longer than others, and from my experience seeing that the world is still turning and joy is still possible is ten times more important than you ‘experiencing the suffering’ with us. I want to know that pottery is still being made. I want to see Thailand rejoice in queer marriages. I want to know that you are loved and supported by people around you. I want to remember that there’s still joy and laughter and care in the world, and that someone can still experience it when I can’t.

It’s important that the world continues on when and where it can. It’s really, really important.

[theglowsociety]

Comparison is the Thief of Ambition

Scrolling through highlight reels won’t fuel your dreams. Shift your focus inward and ask: What can I create today that gets me closer to my goals? Your journey is yours alone.

[sonandheirofnothinginparticular]

[wearevillaneve]

This only makes Season Four hurt more.

Eve’s Obsession [x]

[eggsdoodz]

🩷🌷🐑⭐️🎀

[lowpolybread]

You are frightened. It’s all right, Percy. Your father sent me to tell you, it’s all right. Just breathe. Your father is here. He’s always been here. It is so hard for him to stand back. To see you struggle. It is so hard for us all. But he’s here. And he’s so very proud. Trust him. Trust yourself. Just… breathe.

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS 1x04: I Plunge to My Death

[blog-by-kij]

I love the Inside Out films because in the first one, Joy—among other characteristics—is a huge arrogant, controlling, and self-centered ass and in the second one she’s a less arrogant, controlling, and self-centered ass BUT that’s the point! That’s great! They didn’t make her suddenly not any of those things in the second one, which is good because that would be a bizarre and bad character rewrite. What would she be if she’s not those things? She’s still those things but understands how to better use those characteristics to serve Riley the person, rather than her idea of what Riley should be. This is her whole entire job, and she does it well. Nothing wrong with being proud of a job well done.

BUT, when she doesn’t understand how the other emotions are necessary too, she ends up suppressing Sadness or attempting to curate Riley to make her happy, in a softer way than Anxiety did but still to the same effect—controlling and restricting Riley’s full experiences at the expense of Riley. She became not controlling of other emotions by the second film but turned out to still be a little bit controlling of Riley in that one. But by that time, she already had the experience of learning that she could be wrong and was therefore more open to the idea that she could be doing something wrong again. Joy will do literally anything to make Riley happy, and that includes—most importantly—growing as a character, reflecting on her actions, changing behaviors, and learning how the other emotions do in fact ultimately make Riley a happier and better person.

Another thing I like is that she wasn’t mad at Anxiety, she didn’t punish Anxiety or suppress her, because she learned from Sadness that all emotions have a valuable purpose for Riley and she didn’t ever need to be reminded of that. In real life, when does being mad at or punishing your anxiety or sadness or anything help? And then in the end, Anxiety drinks her tea on her special chair, suggesting that Joy and the others made a space where Anxiety could be close and a part of it all in a way that serves Riley best. They made a way to respect the function that Anxiety has without ignoring her or letting her have excessive control over Riley. Not exerting excessive control over Riley is a lesson that Joy learned alongside Anxiety, and perhaps couldn’t be learned from anyone other than Anxiety.

Joy has to be the one that the story is told through because she has to be the one to learn and grow—and by the end of both films, she is a much stronger character for it all, and Riley is too. This makes perfect sense, because when you think about it, your capacity for joy is strengthened when you understand and value the legitimate role that sadness and anxiety play in your life.

[floofanflurr]

I adore him

[creativenicocorner]

...lately I've been thinking a lot about Susan Sto Helit. Specifically her introduction and farewell in the Discworld series.

About how her introduction in Soul Music is through the eyes of Miss Butts who goes on describing this recently orphaned girl as:

"something frankly unloveable about the child. Academically brilliant in the things she liked doing, of course. But that was just it. She was brilliant in the same way that a diamond is brilliant, all edges and chilliness." *

And then the very last we see of Susan within the Discworld series, is in Thief of Time, ending with... well no matter one's personal opinion of Susan and Lobsang Ludd... the Death series ends with love. ( I could go on a tangent about how each Death book is about some version of Love but thats for another time)

ANYWAY the last we read of Susan is:

"She put the chocolate in her mouth, and shut her eyes. A faint cardboard-y sound made her open them. The lids were lifting on the boxes of stars. They spilled out, and whirled up into the shadows of the cupboard, brilliant against the darkness, a galaxy in miniature. Susan watched them for a while, and then said: "Alright, you have my full attention, whoever you are." At least, that is what she meant to say. The peculiar stickiness of the nougat caused it to come out as: "au-rite ou av my full at-em-ntion." Damn. The stars spiraled around her head, and the cupboard's interior darkened into interstellar black. "If this is you Death of Rats," she began. "It's me," said Lobsang. Tick! Even with nougat, you can have a perfect moment."

It ends with love!! Love for a girl who was described as "something frankly unlovable" we bid farewell to Susan in the series with a Perfect Moment!!

Does this mean anything? Do you see the glimpses of what I'm feeling and barely managing to articulate?!

*Please forgive me if the quotes aren't entirely accurate in terms of punctuation etc, I only have the audio form and transcribed it while listening.

[fandomnerd9602]

Felicia slinks up to Y/N at a party…

Felicia: you here for work or to play?

Y/N: I could ask you the same question

Felicia: dance with me

Y/N takes Felicia out to the dance floor…

Felicia: I-I’m sorry about last night. I should’ve stayed.

Y/N: how about tonight? You can stay then

Felicia: hmm…I just might. (Whispers) I have to rob Fisk first but after that…I’m all yours

[westywallowing]

havent watched the show yet so instead have a flashback to one of my favorite scenes in TLT musical. bless u chris mccarrell

[turtlecleric]

Bay!Mikey x reader, soulmate au - ink on your skin is mirrored on theirs until it’s wiped off

Cws: implied/referenced self-harm

-

You’d heard about the butterfly project online somewhere. It had felt silly, at first, to think they might actually help, but… you were getting a little bit desperate. So you’d bought some markers. Locked your door. Pulled the fabric of your shorts down so they’d bunch up close to your hips. And started drawing.

Now that you’re done, you’re surprised to find that you really, really like them. You’ve drawn them tiny, with little rounded wings and splashes of your favorite colors. They actually make you smile, and it’s been a long time since you’ve been able to do that while looking at your legs. 

You wonder if he’ll ask you about them. He often sends little messages your way, written on your forearm. Maybe if you stare at your arm long enough, you’ll see his messy scrawl appear. Something like, “Oh, so you like butterflies? My favorite kind are the ones you give me!”

God. You can’t believe you miss a person you haven’t even met yet. 

For the millionth time, you wonder what he looks like. What he sounds like. It doesn’t really matter, since you already know the things that do matter. You know that he’s kind. And funny. And excited to meet you one day.

…So why hasn’t he? You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. You’ve asked him multiple times to meet up, but there’s always something that comes up. 

Maybe… maybe it’s you. Maybe he can tell that you’re… but no, that doesn't make sense. He really does seem like he likes talking to you. Like he wants to meet you one day. It’s only been a few months since your soul ink started to appear, and some soulmates go years before they meet up for the first time.

You hope you don’t have to wait that long. 

Sighing, you brush a thumb along the wings of one of the butterflies. It had seemed so pretty at first, but now… you can’t help but stare at the lines visible beneath the ink.

You try to focus back on the butterflies.

You’d been proud of them. Thought they were cute. Thought that maybe he might find them cute, too. But the longer you stare, the more you wonder if he might not find them cute. What if he’s… annoyed. That you drew all over yourself without consulting him first. He has to deal with this, too, after all. They’re in an easy to hide place, but still. Maybe you should have asked his permission. Maybe you should have been more considerate of the possibility that he might not want to have his thighs covered in little butterflies. The project isn’t a one night deal, either. You have to keep drawing them back on, you can’t let the butterflies fade until the urges fade. It’s been years at this point - did you really think this was a good idea? Trying this method when you have your soulmate to think about? What if he hates them? What if he hates people who might need something like this? What if he knows about the butterfly project, and seeing this is the last straw, and he never speaks to you ag-

You inhale sharply at the sight of blank ink blooming in one of the empty spaces on your thigh. Mesmerized, you watch as the ink curls and glides, slowly but surely, into a picture.

A flower. 

Another one appears in the empty space between two other butterflies. Your hand raises to cover your mouth as you watch more and more appear. It’s calming, watching them swirl into existence. Some are tiny, delicate things. Others are large enough for little details. Shadows and textures, leaves and stems and… wow. 

You hadn’t realized he was an artist. There’s no way he isn’t, with how breathtaking these flowers are. And he’d just… he’d just done it, like it was nothing. Turned your skin into a work of art in less than 15 minutes. Somehow taken your pathetic little butterflies and woven them into a complete piece that you could stare at for hours and not get bored. 

It’s incredible.

You feel like you should… say something. You grab a marker and hesitate, unsure, before deciding on just being honest with him.

They’re beautiful!

It takes only a moment before you see him start to write back. It’s a little funny, seeing his chicken scratch and then glancing over to the beautiful pieces of art that he’s turned your legs into. Just another thing about him that makes you smile. But when you see his response, your smile drops.

Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl

You’re not sure why that makes you start to cry. He’s called you beautiful before. Not that he could possibly mean it - you haven’t met yet, you haven’t even exchanged last names or numbers or anything, but… something about it feels… genuine. Genuine in a way that it really shouldn’t be. How could he mean that when he has no clue what you look like? Surely he wouldn’t say that if he did know, I mean, look at you.

But. Somehow. Somehow. You know he means it. 

You grab a wipe from your bedside table, clearing your first message from your arm. His words disappear, as well, and part of you mourns the physical proof of those words, but then he starts to- oh my god. He’s writing down a phone number. It’s- it’s got to be his phone number, right? What else could it be? You don’t have long to wonder, because then you see another message appear. 

If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. Don’t kill the butterflies, okay?

Don’t kill the butterflies. He knows. He knows. And he still- he still wants to talk to you. 

You shouldn’t call him right now. You’re an emotional mess. It’s late, too, and you have no idea if he has to be up early tomorrow. But. But you- he finally gave you- and you just- you just-

Your hands shake as you dial the number. How could you not call him now? How could you possibly wait another second to finally hear his voice? How could you-

“Hey sunshine,” he says - and, oh. His voice. His voice makes you smile so hard your cheeks start to hurt. Sunshine, he’d called you. Fitting, you think, since it suddenly feels like you’ve swallowed the sun and rays are surely shining through the spaces between your ribs. “I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling and tracing one of the bigger flowers with a finger. “Me too.”

-

tag list: @luckycharms1701 @yorshie @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @shakeyourtrees

[chiropteracupola]

1 page down 39 pages to go everyone please cheer and clap while I drag myself hand over hand up this awful cliff

[embie-mint]

other girls only think I'm pretty when they hate themselves and I wish they could see their own beauty and I wish I had theirs.

[unhappy-sometimes]

ngl i kinda dread seeing those “this was my art in 2020 and this is my art now” post because i’m looking back at my art in 2020 and i’ve definitely gotten worse :/

it is not a good feeling.