ah fuck it this is my tumblr. if ur paranoid abt vaguing im gonna fill the first few tags with nonsense as filler

There’s a little girl in my head & she screams “unloved! unloved! unloved!” every moment of my life

— @heavensickness (x)

if you think terf ideology is about "misandry," about actually hating men, you are falling for it.

Mobius, I know you’re trying to help me, but we should be dealing with the bigger problem here. He Who Remains.

things mr d does for his own entertainment:

convince percy he's his dad (he isn't), then asks him to get him alcohol (he's not allowed to drink alcohol)

telling percy zeus is very likely mad at him for stealing the thunderbolt (which he didn't steal)

You know, I think there's something so, so insidious to the idea that Orym's perspective of the Vanguard is "flawed/human" or that him repeatedly reminding his friends what the Vanguard does (kill innocents to achieve their means) "blocks nuance" in the conversation, etc, because it implies that, in this mythical "objective" perspective that apparently exists, the Vanguard aren't so bad. If only Orym could put aside his petty grievances, such as the murder of his father and husband, and let people be nuanced about this situation, he'd see there's two sides to this story. And why discount the Vanguard's perspective just because *checks notes* they're a massive, manipulative cult that preys on vulnerable people to join their ranks and turns them to violence, or that they work with a centuries-old fascist eugenicist literally mind-controlling psychic government with the goal of freeing a creature that could very well destroy the world as we know it and even if it doesn't, will leave an enormous power vacuum for that fascist government to potentially occupy when they invade Exandria?

I think there's some misconception people have that they think war shouldn't ever be personal and if it does become personal for someone then their logic is too clouded by their feelings to see the situation clearly, just automatically. And perhaps sometimes, in some contexts, this can be true! But not here. It's actually quite cut and dried that Orym's "flawed, human" perspective is the one reminding everyone of the human cost to Ludinus' grand plans, all in the name of so called "progress"

"I can't believe what Im seeing!"

"You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? And I said, Where can I put it down?"

– Anne Carson, "Glass, Irony and God"

"You know what truly aches? Having so much inside you and not having the slightest clue of how to pour it out."

– Karen Quan, "Write like no one is reading"

I might’ve spoiled the plot of Natlan | Genshin Impact THEORY

In which I read so much lore that I gained the power to see the future (maybe) This ended up being a real challenge to make - but it was also really fun! Please do lemme know what you reckon of these ideas, and whether y’all wanna see me pattern-recognition my way into several corkboards worth of theories about any other topics sometime down the line! (^^)/

(also: HAPPY NEW YEAR! 🥳🎉 Here's wishing y'all every good thing for 2024)

It's been so fascinating to see how strongly people react to Toshiro in Dungeon Meshi. When I first read that scene I didn't feel hurt by Toshiro's rejection of Laois at all, I was more shocked at Laios raising a hand to him in anger because Laios had always felt like a man free from such anger and aggression. Although it was very powerful to see that Laios was capable of feeling such a way. I felt the scene was very emotionally charged and an important moment for both characters.

So when I started hearing about how hurt other people were at seeing Toshiro lash out in frustration towards Laios, and seeing people express discomfort towards Toshiro I was surprised but not confused. Honestly I was more surprised at myself for not having a similar reaction because I have also been subject to being led on in "friendships" that the other person secretly despised (or at least did NOT feel the same). It can be very hurtful to discover that someone has built a resentment towards you but never made any attempt to clear the air with you until a point of crisis.

I am autistic and I struggle a lot with relationships but in this instance I didn't see myself in Laios' shoes (although I have been there) instead I found myself relating to Toshiro. A man trapped by social expectations, rigid rules of engagement hammered into him from a young age, only to discover that there is someone who does not follow these rules at all. Even more bizarrely they seem completely free from any of the consequences that would befall Toshiro if he ever deviated from his carefully cultivated mask.

I can say from experience it is confronting to try and unpack your own high masking trauma while also feeling compelled to support the low masking autistic person in your life. Even if the other person means no ill will and has not truly done anything wrong, having them unknowingly walk all over you can be enough to push you to a breaking point. There is an intense frustration that comes with seeing someone else get away with not following the social rules you have beaten yourself painfully into shape to fit.

Yes Toshiro could have chosen any moment to correct Laios on his name, or clarify his discomfort or his personal boundaries, but that is operating under the assumption that Toshiro feels safe enough to do so. He is a stranger in a strange land, and often in that position it is a safer choice to subject yourself to a level of discomfort simply to keep the general peace. Where my fellow high maskers at? We make biting our tongue a fucking art.

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

The ''Are you trying to romance me?'' meme but with Barnaby and Howdy

i belted this out in like a half hour flat <3 bc Yes

Sorry just thinking about how lovingly Charles talked about where he'd buried Arthur, the softness and somber in his voice, the way he reassured John that Arthur got the proper burial he deserved.

"It's where he would have wanted to be.. a pretty hillside.. facing the evening sun."

I think there's a real charm - We love playing the argument, because they kind of, they recognize each other and they see each other but it's all about working together.

LOKI APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 | for @dailyloki Day 3 : Favorite Dynamic : Lokius + bickering

Hi, there. What do you want me to tell this bitch?

found this super interesting. this person below is an acting coach and scriptwriter that's worked on/working on: kinnporsche (2022), only friends (2023), playboyy (2023) and mansruang (2023):