#you should go to therapy

[angelnumber27]

Genuine question, but have you ever met anyone in your life that actually respects you?

Yes obviously. Genuine question, what’s wrong with you

[kbsd]

webgott // “we should go to counseling”

what can be said about it? what can be said for such an ugly mess?

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

*tries to organize my thoughts*

*remembers i'm not in school and therefore beholden to neither heaven nor hell nor any man's grading system*

*joyously shredding & tossing all my carefully arranged 3x5 mental notecards into the air like so much beige confetti. raising my arms in victory, cheering raucously until i accidentally inhale bits of homemade confetti*

(*coughing up itty bits of paper like a cat evicting a hairball with a firm understanding of tenants' rights*) wait wat happens next

[cappyjara]

[utilitycaster]

this was a good panel and I'm glad I watched it specifically because Taliesin deservedly has a reputation for coming up with fairly philosophical concepts behind his D&D characters, but also on another level he is just like "what if there were just wretched guy with so many things wrong with them. fucked up, right?" and it nearly always slaps

[babycharmander]

Weird folks: Vent art of any form is good and all but it should ONLY be between you and your therapist. Don’t share that stuff online or publish it!!!

Me, an artist/writer: *goes to therapy, talks about my trauma and mental health and how sometimes it’s hard to talk about it with others*

Therapist: Have you thought about using your art and writing to help you work through these things and share them with others?

[mueritos]

a little strange to get dms from other trans people saying they agree with biden's dumb statemet that he doesnt want minors getting gender-affirming care. if you really think its such an epidemic that 13 year olds are getting their knockers blown off by surgeons every other day, then please point me in the direction of said 13 year olds that are somehow accessing gender-affirming care that literal trans adults can't even access.

like please be fr. we literally have privatized healthcare and insurance where not even people who go through the appropriate avenues can get approved for care they need to stay alive. what makes you think a trans minor is getting phallo or vaginalplasty. feel whatever you want about 13 year olds who want gender-affirming care, but dont parrot transphobic rhetoric that is based on no facts and a moral panic. they second they legitimize barriers to care for trans minors is the second they start finding ways to do the same for trans adults. dont be a buffoon.

[minecraftian1213]

Baby Obi-Wan once stared so hard into the Force that he was never the same. Ever since he joined the creche the Masters knew there was something... off about the little one. They weren't quite sure what to think of the littlest of the younglings. He always seemed to know things he shouldn't and offered words that often intimidated padawans, knights, and even gained concerned expressions from seasoned masters.

The guards in the temple were less amused when he learned to properly shield himself. Gifted in the art of shielding, Obi-Wan tended to wander from his creche. Normally, a wandering youngling wouldn't be a problem. Where one youngling lingered, a sentinel was hiding in the shadows not too far away. Obi-Wan Kenobi, however, finds the right moment to slip away.

When questioned what he is doing so far from his creche, Obi-Wan always answers, "Force says so."

Qui-Gon keeps stumbling upon a small ginger boy when he finds himself alone. The first time was a memorable experience. It is, after all, the first time Qui-Gon met his future apprentice.

"What are you doing?" And the voice makes Qui-Gon pause in his walk. A youngling is staring at him from behind a pillar.

"Thinking," he answers honestly. The boy, probably no older than four or five, steps out and walks up to him, arms held out in demand to be picked up. Qui-Gon obliges and settles him on his hip, changing his destination to the creches. "Why aren't you with your creche?"

"The masters say I should listen to the Force. The Force says I should be here. With you."

Qui-Gon's lips quirk upward. "Is that so, little one? What else does it tell you?"

The youngling tilts his head, blue eyes shining. Qui-Gon feels like he isn't being seen despite the boy's eyes clearly on him. "Nothing you should know yet," the boy says.

Qui-Gon doesn't ask any more questions, too stumped to know what to ask the boy. The boy of course takes Qui-Gon's silence as his cue to talk. He offers his name as Obi-Wan Kenobi and tells him all about his friend Quinlan who sees things when he touches stuff and- "He doesn't see stuff when he holds my hand because my shields are good. Did you know the guards don't like it when I leave? Guard Feemor says I shield too hard."

And doesn't that take Qui-Gon by surprise. "Is that so?" Temple guards wore masks to protect their identities. Qui-Gon wasn't aware his former padawan took rotations as a guard.

Obi-Wan replies easily, "He doesn't know I know."

Qui-Gon quickly returns the youngling to his creche. The second escape and return allows Obi to decide he likes this master. It's the seventh escapade from their first meeting that the guards and creche masters and even passing jedi learn that when Obi-Wan goes missing he's with Qui-Gon.

[miusato]

Honestly the main attraction for Shinjiham is how contrast their personality is and it is always funny for me to think about how people around them would react if they found out they're dating in this AU lol

[n1ghtwr1ter]

At the end of my latest TLT reread and it’s been physically painful attempting to read the last 40+ pages of Nona. Like, the short shrift that Gideon/Kiriona gets given by the people in the story…the theoretical good guys who honestly only see her as a thing, as a means to an end with an inconvenient dead soul attached to it… It makes me want to rip my own heart out of my chest.

Nobody has cared about Gideon her whole life. Most people, in fact, if they remembered about her at all, went out of their way to tell her how much they wished she didn’t exist. In the final chapters of Gideon, she finally gets the thing she’s been desperate for her whole life: somebody telling her that they need her, they care that she exists, and they badly want her to go on doing it. This allows her to make peace with the prospect that at the ripe old age of 18, she needs to die so that that person can go on living and living and living, using the castrated remnants of her soul as fuel to do so. Not a great way to go, but at least Gideon would get to be useful to somebody, would get to be remembered for something.

And then she wakes up in the wrong body, and finds out that her sacrifice - her attempt to be useful in the most selfless way possible, in that her self will no longer exist - has been rejected. And not only that, but the person she tried to give herself to - the one who was supposed to care about her - went to extreme lengths to make completely sure that she no longer remembered about Gideon.

She literally cut Gideon out of her brain.

And now, drifting along in the worst sort of half life where she’s inhabiting her body but it’s no longer really hers, in very obvious fashion - there’s holes in it, her heart is missing, and it’s got her shitty father’s handprints all over it (not even touching how much of a violation that is), indelibly - she finally meets back up with the small group of people who could theoretically be relied upon to be glad to see her again.

But then the one who was supposed to care about her most tries to kiss her (massively OOC for Harrow), and turns out to not even be there - it’s some weird baby inhabiting her body, and doing a really shit job of it too. The rest of them won’t stop talking about how they need her to break into the Tomb - as if she was just another key, same as the ones they worked together to acquire in Canaan House, just bigger and more inconvenient - and/or how they both fucked and killed her mom, who also (surprise, surprise) wished that Gideon had never existed, but saw her as a thing that needed to be done for the good of the mission.

Ultimately, they all make it abundantly clear - Palamedes, Camilla, Pyrrha, and especially Nona, all these people who are supposed to be kind and good and right - that they would prefer she wasn’t there. That it just be her body, with no Gideon attached - at least not Gideon the way she is now, broken and rejected and miserable. They would all far have preferred that she not have her own inconvenient thoughts and feelings and desires and impulses - that she just be inanimate and let the important people, the grown ups, get things done.

They wish she didn’t exist. Same as everybody else in her life, save one, and now she’s left wondering whether Harrow really meant it at all. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have left Gideon to Kiriona’s fate.

And honestly? Really, truly? I know everybody in the fandom loves Pal and Cam and Nona and Pyrrha, but in the end I couldn’t give less of a shit about them. They are fucking side characters, and as intriguing as Nona has been from a worldbuilding standpoint, I ultimately resent having been forced to read 400+ pages of filler bullshit about fucking side characters. I am a butch, and I’m here for my sarcastic, loving, angry, vulnerable, forgiving, and yes, inconvenient sword butch. I’m here for Gideon. But Gideon has been fridged for the last two books of the series in which she is supposed to be a, if not the, main character.

And it feels like almost nobody else in the fandom feels the same way, which, fine. I’m used to that. I’m also used to being told I’m projecting; and I’m used to being told that I’m inconvenient too, in my thoughts and my opinions and the mere fact of my existence. I spent the first eighteen years of my life being told I was inconvenient. Yet another point of overidentification with Gideon.

But in case anybody still thinks that Nona proves that Gideon was an asshole all along, think about all of the above. Think about how it would make you feel to come back from not just death but from the erasure of your existence, something you chose in order to save the life of someone you loved, and be told that you’re inconvenient. Think about how you’d feel if you’d been told all your life that it would be better for everyone if you didn’t exist. And then tell me that Kiriona isn’t in the right and that I should give a rat’s ass what happens to literally anybody else.

It’s Kiriona Hours up in this House, butches. We’ve spent long enough caring about people who would prefer we weren’t around. For once in our entire lives we were told we were important; we were told we mattered; we were told we were the main character. We were going to, if not get the girl and save the world, at least get to do something real, something important, something like being the hero.

But that’s over now; we’re back to being wrong and bad and inconvenient thanks to the simple fact of our existence. So it’s time to embrace it. Let’s be a little shit. Let’s be kind of a dick. Let’s have our own agenda, let’s play our cards close to our heartless chest, let’s allow our circle of empathy to contract to ourselves and maybe one more person. That’s where I’m at right now. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

[zivazivc]

Did Les ever dated in the past? Also is he with anyone recently?

Les quit school really early, like 10-years-old early, and he started working soon after, so he didn't really have friends his age. That kinda puts a buffer on a teenager's social and love life. Though there was something that happened at a house party once, that was, uh... a bad experience, and it left him with a lot of issues. Also, partially because of this, he's not really someone who acts on his crushes. So he never dated before.

But at one point the band spent a few months in the same location (dunno the reason yet, but maybe they weren't getting enough gigs and they had to take up some part time jobs for a while), and Les developed a crush on a bartender at a nearby club.

She's the only OC of mine who's visually a bigger weirdo than Les, and he definitely saw a little bit of himself in her, and hoping for someone with some shared life experience, it's what initially attracted him toward her and vice versa.

So they had a thing going on for a short time. It never developed into anything serious because sadly they are very alike, which means they are BOTH morons who are shy about making the first move. And after a while they came to the agreement that they were better as just friends.

Floyd with his persistent crush was not happy about the possible romance at first, but he ended up being happy for Les, and he finally decided to give his hopeless longing a rest, since the only good it was doing was growing a rift between his and Les's friendship.

Funny enough it was Floyd backing down which allowed the two to grow closer. Les lowered his guard since he no longer had to overthink if Floyd would interpret anything he did or said as some kind of flirting or act of love, and he no longer had to brace himself for any uncomfortable romancing coming from Floyd either.

They were already good friends since the start but they became much more casual with each other and began to understand each other on a deeper level as years passed. As Floyd got older and more mature, and became an equal with the rest of the bandmates, it was actually Les who fell for him, hard. He didn't really do anything about it though, but Floyd eventually realized this and you know he did something about it. Though Floyd's crush had gone from looking at Les as this cool experienced older guy when he was younger to now seeing him as a shy innocent teddy bear compared to his lewd self ksjhdkjs.

So technically they became each other's first proper all-encompassing relationship. And by that I mean that besides the lovey-dovey obvious stuff, they were also best friends and helped each other grow a lot. Also Floyd by the time they got together, already started a habit of hooking up with strangers at parties, so being with Les forced him to slow down and progress through a relationship slowly and at a healthy pace for someone his age (since you can't really get anywhere with Les without a lot of patience). And Floyd got Les to become comfortable with opening up and talking about his deep-rooted feelings. They talked about issues they faced, many of which were related to Les's childhood trauma, instead of him just ignoring or suppressing it all. (Floyd also opened up about his own family trauma with Les obviously, but he talked about it even before they got together.)

The relationship, especially at the start, could still be considered questionable from an outsider's perspective, but so was the band's lifestyle in general. They were good for each other during that period while they were growing up and figuring themselves and each other out, which is what matters I think.

It was honestly mainly Floyd's undiagnosed bipolar disorder that made the relationship suffer toward the end of Floyd's days in the band. It created a lot of trust issues between Floyd and Les, and also Floyd and everyone else, heck it even made Floyd distrust himself, since he and none else knew or understood what was happening with him. This led to a lot of misery and anger that he mostly ended up directing at Les, and it was what eventually made them break up and Floyd leave.

[firesunflamed]

thinking about Frank and mirror sex with an insecure partner

(nsfw, chubby fem!reader, internalized fatphobia?, degradation kink. smut with angst and a little bit of fluff and an attempt at exorcising some personal demons)

maybe he gets the idea when he sees you looking at your naked body in the mirror one day, the way you try to suck in your stomach, smooth out the curves he loves. maybe he even asks about it, and maybe you even admit to it—knowing that you’re not ugly, but you’re not beautiful, not like him. knowing that you get looks when you go out together, and the only way you can make sense of them is that people can’t believe someone who looks like him would be dating someone that looks like you.

and he hates it, because how could you think that, think about yourself like that? they’re looking at his ugly mug, not you. and maybe you smile weakly, try to change the subject, and he lets you then, already thinking about how to fix it.

and then when you have sex later that day he asks to try something different. you end up sitting on the edge of the bed, the floor length mirror moved to reflect your body, your spread legs as he plays with your clit. his face peeks over your shoulder and you’re leaning against his chest, and he’s telling you how beautiful you look, one hand holding the curve of your lower stomach. His thumb strokes the skin there and then he’s moving up to hold your waist, hand spread wide over the folds of fat above and below it. and you know this is a kindness, know he means well, know he’s trying to make you feel better. but it feels fake, feels like a lie, like he’s saying what he’s supposed to say because it’s not true, you aren’t beautiful, you know you’re not, why is he lying to you? And if he’s lying to you about this then, logically, maybe he’s lying to you about wanting you at all. maybe he’s lying about his love. maybe he’s with you because you know who he is and he’s worried about being turned into the police and maybe—

and you’re burying your head in your hands and then it’s “c’mon sweet girl, look at yourself, c’mon— fuck you’re beautiful, look at you- fuck-” and you’re shaking your head because if you open your eyes you will see nothing but every single flaw on your body, and if this is a kindness shouldn’t it feel good? but it doesn’t it doesn’t it doesn’t, and you don’t want it, and he’s asking now, softly, as his fingers move from your clit to push inside you and find your g-spot, asking you to look at how beautiful you are taking him. and there’s pleasure there, but it seems very far away, like it’s happening to someone else because he couldn’t possibly be talking to you. and he keeps asking, keeps praising, keeps using that terrible awful attempted kindness of a lie and you can feel him hard against your back but you know neither of you are going to come like this. you call yellow. he stills, slipping his fingers out of your cunt.

“What is it, sweet girl? what do you need?”

and you keep your head buried in your hands, trying not to cry, and ask if you can do something else. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but Frank, this… this isn’t making me feel better. I don’t feel that way about myself and you just insisting I should isn’t going to make me feel that way.”

It’s a long moment of silence before he says, “I’m gonna move us so we’re facing away from the mirror, yeah?”

“Okay,” you agree.

he moves his legs so they’re no longer on either side of yours before grabbing your waist and laying you down on your sides, facing each other. Your hands fall away from your face, even though your eyes stay closed, and he kissed your forehead, once, gently. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, yeah? don’t like seeing you like this.”

you take a breath, try to put your emotions into words. “I can’t— I can’t be told that you think I’m beautiful like that. It feels like a lie.”

“S’not a lie,” he says, with barely concealed fury. “You’re so fucking gorgeous sometimes I don’t even know how I got you.”

and you shake your head because he’s just making it worse and worse. “I know you think that and it’s very nice of you-" he scoffs at that description but you keep going “but I don’t feel that way. If you’re telling me that then I need it in a…. a different way. A way that doesn’t feel like it’s for me.”

it takes him another second to say, “alright sweet girl. alright.” he presses another kiss to your forehead. “you want something else right now, or do you just want this?” and you don’t want sex anymore, haven’t really wanted it since he started with the “beautiful”s, and you hesitate, because you feel bad that your insecurities mean he’s not getting to come, but you realize that he’s only half hard now. You’ve already ruined the mood.

“Just this,” you say, and you stay like that, wrapped up in each other for a long while.

he lets it go, doesn’t bring it up again. acts like he never realized your insecurities in the first place, except for how he’ll drape an arm over the largest part of your stomach instead of your waist when you cuddle, or the way he’ll sometimes grope your flat ass like it’s big enough to bother when you kiss or fuck. And you forget about the conversation altogether.

and then it’s a couple of months later, and he’s spent the last hour making you come over and over and over until you’re overstimulated, legs shaking. thoughts are hard and words are harder and all you know is that you’re his good little slut, and you take him so well. you’re trying to beg for mercy, but you think it’s coming out more as a collection of mumbled syllables that might form “please”, if one’s being generous.

“C’mon, you got one more for me, sweet girl. one more for me.”

you whine because you can’t take it you can’t take it how can you take it when you’re already this wrecked?

“shshsh… c’mon sweet girl, c’mon.” your back is to his front, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “open your eyes. open your eyes.” you can’t you can’t you can’t— “be a good whore, and open your eyes,” he orders lowly, and you gasp and you do, finding your reflection staring back at you. it might’ve caught you off guard but you’re already so fucked out that it only just registers.

“there she is.” He pulls your leg out to the side, the mess he’s made of your folds on display. He places a finger on top of your clit, but offers no additional pressure. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful covered in my cum.”

You whine, because the barely-there touch on your clit and the brush of his cock against your entrance are cruel cruel cruel. You try moving your hips, try to sink onto him, but his hand moves from your leg to your hip, holding you in place.

“Don’t,” he warns, and you have no choice but to obey the easy power in his voice. “Wanna look at you like this. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Think I could keep you like this all the time. You want that, huh? Want me to keep you like this, ready to be fucked like a good whore whenever I want.”

You don’t even try to answer, mesmerized by the sight of your swollen pussy painted with white, his thick cock visible below.

“You’re so beautiful. Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you’re beautiful,” he says, more softly this time, and the words start to break through your fucked-out headspace. Then he’s thrusting into you, rough and deep, and any thoughts you might’ve had are lost as he hits your g-spot with each thrust, fingers busy on your clit. Your eyes slip closed, and he orders you to open them again. “Watch as I fuck you,” he says, speeding up his pace, and you’re begging, pleading, but for what you don’t know. For more, for less? It doesn’t matter. Your entire purpose has narrowed down pleasing him. “Tell me how beautiful you are taking me.”

You know he knows you lost your words a while ago. You manage a high sound of pleasure, watching his cock split you open with each thrust. “Say it,” he orders again. “Need my girl’s pretty voice in my ear when I come inside her again. ” You’re stuttering now, mumbling, trying to form the words. “Say it.”

“ ‘M so- pretty- taking your- your cock. Frank!” You eventually manage, rolling your hips, watching him disappear inside you. The sight is so erotic, you think you could come from that alone.

“Keep goin’ sweet girl, c’mon-” and his voice is lower and lower in your ear, the way it always is when he gets close.

“ ‘M beautiful- covered- in your cum-! Please please please, Frank, please-”

“Once more for me sweetheart, need it to come, need to hear you say it-”

“ ‘M beautiful- I’m - I’m - beautiful-” and the hand on your hip moves to band around your waist as he moves faster, until you are nothing but sensation, nothing but his beautiful little slut, so good for him, so good for him. “I’m- I’m- I’m-“

Still in his thrall, you come again, writhing on his cock, watching your bodies as you do. You can see the flushed skin of your cheeks and neck and chest, see the taut muscles of his thighs and arms as he fucks you. From here, you can’t see the small flaws of your body just the shapes and the colors. Then he comes with a low noise in your ear, and you keep your eyes open, watching as his face goes loose, soothed in a way you rarely see. It’s beautiful.

He rests his head against your shoulder and you sigh happily, still not quite back to yourself. He uses his grip on you to fall backwards into the mattress, tipping onto your sides as he slips out of your cunt. You both make a small sound at the loss, but you’re not back to yourself enough to ask him to stay inside you.

You stay there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other. But eventually the adrenaline starts to fade, and you realize what that last part of the scene was. Your request, from months ago.

As if he can sense that you’ve come back to yourself, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Too much?”

“Was that for me, or for you?” you blurt, instead of an answer. The intense pleasure you had just been made to feel seems now to have returned as grief, the warning of tears thick in your voice.

It takes him a second to respond, and then he’s shifting on the mattress. “Hey. Look at me.”

Trying to blink back the tears, you roll over to face him. He’s propped up on an elbow, looking at you with such love and care and concern in his dark eyes the tears become that much harder to stop. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes. His hands reach out to wrap around your wrists, and pull them away from your face, and you give up trying to stop them.

Frank wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Was for both of us, yeah? You’re so goddamn beautiful, and I get to see it every day but you don’t. Watching us like that, together? Never would of thought of it, but it was… fuck, yeah, it was for both of us.”

And that’s an answer you can accept, can appreciate. Maybe the only one. But the tears don’t stop, and he kisses your forehead. “How ‘bout we go shower, huh? That was… I pushed you hard. Let’s go shower.”

You nod, and he pulls you towards the en-suite, warms up the water and then helps you in, stepping in afterwards before beginning to wash your skin from the mess he'd made on you. You stand there, trying to stop yourself from crying, not entirely sure where the tears came from in the first place. But when you try to stifle your quiet noises, Frank tips your chin up, forces you to look at him.

"Don't pull that. Let it out, sweet girl. Let it out." It's the same thing you say to him when he comes home from a bad night, or when the nightmares chase him out of sleep. You let yourself sob for something you can't quite put words to. Frank holds you up through it all, massaging your scalp and washing your skin, whispering sweet words in your ear.

he gets out only when your tears have finally stopped, a few minutes before you to change the sheets, then comes back to turn off the water and bundle you in a towel. he dries you off before pulling you back to the bedroom, helping you underneath the covers and turning off the light.

You're both on your sides, facing each other in the dark. You can feel him hesitate, trying to decide if he should reach for you. You move closer, burying your face in juncture between his neck and his shoulder, breathing in his scent. His arm wraps around your back and brings you closer.

"You're not lying to me." Your words are quiet, little more than a mumble against his skin.

He doesn't have to ask about what. "Haven't lied to you since I told you my name. Won't start now."

You hum. "This won't be... enough to fix it."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna keep telling you. Gonna tell you whenever you let me. As many times as you need before you stop asking, yeah?"

You sigh happily. "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. I really, really, love you."

He kisses the top of your head. "Love you too."

[huellitaa]

the world is yours, literally 💭🎀🧁

so if you've been on this side of tumblr or any girly self improvement etc. side of social media, there's a high chance you've discovered the statement "you are the creator of your own reality" or "the world is yours" or something along those lines at some point. it sounds so far fetched when you first hear it, without any thought going into its true meaning, but the reason this is used so much is because it is true.

we are our lives. you are the world around you. everything in our lives is intrinsically entwined in ways we can't explain and the biggest connection out of all of them is us and life. it sounds obvious and self explanatory, sure, but when you think of it on a deeper level and dig into the complexity of the notion, like most things, you'll find it holds a lot stronger of a stance in your life.

have you ever noticed how so many metaphors for your life and bettering yourself reference and relate to nature and the world? "treat urself like garbage and the flies will come”, “water your own garden before anyone else’s”, “the darker the night, the brighter the stars”, “needing good roots to grow", they all relate to the sun and the sky and the sea and the world and the ground we stand on. they all relate to earth.

have you ever noticed how when people free themselves from bad situations, their reality and their world around them seems to get better too? how it seems to shift along with them?

because we are our world. every building we've built, every concept we've invented, every life we've created and every life we've lost, everything on this earth down to the last blade of grass was once nothing, but once we began to discover and create and flourish and bloom (see, the analogy still stands even there), the world grew along with us, and still is every day.

in truth, the world is in no set way, shape or form. it is not a singular entity. that's why your life can be remade and reshaped so easily within the blink of an eye (but that's for another time) because the world you know is solely your reality. that's the reason everybody has a different perception of you just as you do them, the reason why we have separate interests, conflicting outlooks, the list goes on.

the more we grow, so does our world, and our reality. you've seen how many people have changed and grown and gotten happier and healthier and only kept on going when they finally began to step up and better themselves, how their world changed along with them. because us and the world are one and the same.

the most important thing i'd like you to ask yourself is how do you treat the world? how do you view the world? and how do you treat and view yourself? are there any particular differences? similarities? anything that stands out? what is the world to you?

all my love... 💬🎀🫶🏻💗

[bakedbananners]

did I just make up the fact that Murderbot mentions it had clients that treated it like a ComfortUnit because I swear I read that at some point

[serailovesbagelsetc]

Annatar/Sauron/Halbrand: telling mirdania he thought she looked like galadriel for a moment while being inappropriately touchy-feely with her in a wistful manner

Galadriel,wherever she is: he's doing something really stupid right now i can just feel it

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Abso-fucking-lutely vibing with World's Finest: Teen Titans' addition of Karen as one of the founding members.

Because good fucking god, before this the team was two demigods, two billionaire teens and a Normal Kid™ in neon yellow BUT NOW?! Now it's two demigods, two billionaire teens and TWO Normal Kids™ in neon yellow!

No but seriously though Wally is the only one who has to like... mow the lawn and watch his neighbor's cat when they go away for the long weekend. He's the only one who knows how to mail a letter at the post office and how much pencils cost at a book fair. He's got superpowers and terrible parents and yet somehow he is the MOST NORMAL ONE THERE.

Which speaks volumes about the rest of them tbh.

But now!!! Karen and Wally get to be nerds ✨together✨ and they get free tickets to watch the trainwrecks that the other Teen Titans call life

Seriously though I think these two are aggressively trying to be friends with each other while also roleplaying their 'cool guy' hero personas, which is extremely funny to me. These two are absolute nerds with no friends in school and they are DESPERATE for a friend and they've just met but they've both decided "Yeah that one. That one is friend shaped"

Wally: you move too slow

Karen: learn how to fly dumbass

Anyway I love them