i think ultimately the core of what irritates me about the t swift craze is that she’s constantly getting props for things that … literally aren’t true. people act like she’s self made, she is not. people act like she’s a social activist, she is not. people act like she’s constantly going to great lengths to uplift other women, she is not. like if people were just like yeah i love her music :) then okay! but it’s the constanttttt applause and praise and worshipping for things that are just patently false that really makes me feel insane
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I wish we had more female characters like Eleanor Shellstrop. One of the most unlikable people you've ever met. Read a Buzzfeed article on most rude things you can do on a daily basis and decided to use that as a list of goals. Makes everyone's day worse just by being there. Dropped a margarita mix on the ground and tried to pick it up, only to get hit by a row of shopping carts which pushed her into the road where she was hit by a boner pill delivery truck, killing her instantly. Cannot keep a romantic partner despite being bisexual. Had a terrible childhood but will die before she gets therapy. Best employee at a scam company. Just the worst but also can't help but root for her to improve.
Absolute loser. Girl-failure. Bad at almost everything. Literally perfect female character.
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For decades, the blank vision that Iudex Neuvillette wears near his heart has been subject to much discussion in Fontaine. Nobody remembers who it had once belonged to or why the ancient dragon protected it so jealously. It is said that if the Chief Justice would to stare at it for a long while, it would be sure to rain right after. Oh, how beloved that person must've been.
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taking a nap with suguru. soft blankets and softer words, sweet nothings mumbled into his ear after he’s had a hard day. his silky black hair brushed from his face by your gentle, loving hands, tossed over his shoulder lightly so it doesn’t catch on any of his earrings while he snoozes. “i’m so proud of you” while he rests, his thick lashes closed against his cheeks, and a smile curled into his lips. he covers the expanse of your neck with soft, deliberately-placed kisses, mumbling a “thank you” or a “love you” in between each press of his lips, and you can feel the cold metal of the rings with each warm kiss. his large hands which massage your back whilst his head lays on your chest — he wanted to be held today, be a little selfish with you. the light of the evening sun, setting just outside the window, washing across the two of you, turning suguru’s skin akin to something of melted caramel, and his hair, silken dark chocolate. kissing his forehead and talking about nothing and everything all at once. reassurance. vulnerability. comfort. safety. love. and contentment on his behalf, as he trusted you with everything he was and everything he felt underneath a single fur blanket. watching him fight sleep, yawning over and over again, his nose crinkling and his eyes pricking with tears at the intensity of his tiredness, until the sandman takes hold of him, and with one final kiss to his forehead — so graciously granted by his lover after moving his bangs out of the way— suguru can doze off happy, knowing he will always wake up to you.
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megumi who tells fushigojo mom about every instance someone tries to flirt with satoru at the park/grocery store/during school pickup AND drives them off immediately once he realizes what’s happening
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