#i absorb that for fucking years

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

it hurt enough seeing this shit about amber but the level of pain I am re-experiencing because of the parallel of my own traumas is absolutely immense and I absolutely hate everyone who thought their humour was so fucking appropriate at that trial

#as someone who was told repeatedly to stop crying #and was laughed at for crying #and felt blamed for not being emotinally strong enough #and who was seen as manipulative and attention seeking #i literally cried when i was away from the house to someone #to just get out of that place #and i was basically told what i was doing was manipulative #and that i had ulterior motives #like wow fucking hell you guys!! #don't need to be reminded that my tears are fake and i'm being selfish #i absorb that for fucking years #what possible escape could i have had??? #i was supposed to feel safe SOMEWHERE #abuse tw #trauma #and now i'm back in a place where i'm no longer safe #and i feel so alone #why??? even people i thought showed SENSE are doing this!!! #i trusted you!!! #and this is what i fucking got #vent #mental illness #personal #it's never the same anymore #rant

[skymantle]

not shipping something subtextual? alright whatever

not shipping it because a wildly popular INACCURATE fan theory says the characters are related? annoying.

not shipping it because you believe (falsely) that they're related + claiming there's no subtext when the crux of the series is the relationship? DIE.

#i need to write my thesis on portal as a feminist story it's been brewing in my head for years and every time #someone says something stupid about caroline or chell or glados it bubbles up and i become exponentially more evil #maybe writing it will inspire less rage within my heart when I see a godawful take in the wild #even if you don't like chelldos. and I get that. you can't deny that the chell and glados' situationship is the heart of both games #the first game ends with them trying to kill each other. the second one ends with them saving each other #logs #portal #chelldos #I swear some people opened the game and absorbed nothing but british men and glowing hole #I think of the GLaDOS line ''I'm being serious I think there's something really wrong with me'' every fucking day #the delivery and context of it. also she's just like me

[henreyettah]

Moment of silence for the people starting gtn (after reading my comic) because I accidentally tricked them into thinking Gideon and Harrow have healthy communication skills and Domestic Intimacy when they do, in fact, have neither

#I’m sorry #I’m so sorry #gtn spoilers #htn spoilers #ntn spoilers #don’t read the tags here unless you want spoil #anyways #y’all are heading into this expecting these bitches to talk and be soft and shit #and I’m letting y’all. while knowing full well that they haven’t spoken a word to eachother in almost two years in canon #I mean. they want to talk #but they haven’t been able to At All due to extreme reasons. including multiple deaths of different kinds between the two of the #m #I feel bad but also not #I need to reread it btw but I’m currently working my way through aftg #which is fine so far. I’m obsessed with it when the book is in my hand but the moment I put it down I’m like ‘meh’ #and then I pick it up again and I’m absorbed #love fucked up people #Gideon Nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #griddlehark #let the soft animal of your body want bitch

[marcusagrippa]

hey hi hello!! stupid old men in a desert fic was promised and i shall deliver. there is no concrete plan there's just two and a half chapters of sad Vibes so far. cw for suicide refs and suchlike because - well, i mean, who on tatooine doesn't want to kill themselves? no cannibalism (yet) sorry :[

spiracle: chapter 1/? (3924 words)

↓↓↓

He is here.

Maul knows from experience that the Force can be a fickle mistress, but there’s no question in it this time, no room for error. He would know that signature anywhere - the steady, pulsing stream of consciousness spreading lazily through the desert night like a drop of ink in water. Broken and ragged and distant though it may be, the Jedi’s presence is unmistakable. So it hasn’t all been for nothing. 

He lets out a low growl as he presses forward through the shifting sands, the particles already starting to clog the joints of his prosthetics. The path ahead of him is lit only by the faint light of Tatooine’s moons - Maul is almost upset to have missed the suns-set. Force knows it’s likely the only beautiful thing about this damned dustball. The end of his cane digs into the ground as he feels the air beginning to cool around him, and this is one of the few times in his life he wishes he’d had the foresight to wear something that covered his chest. 

Too much fabric inhibits his movement in combat. There’s nothing more to it than that, of course. And Maul is certainly planning on fighting tonight. 

The Zabrak starts to struggle a little as he clambers doggedly up a shifting dune, servos whining in protest as the mechanisms of his legs start to seize up. Damned Death Watch craftsmanship - you’d think that Mandalorians would be at least half-decent working with metal, but no, these legs have to struggle at the slightest inconvenience. Maybe they were good, once upon a time, but… he’s getting old, and so are his cybernetics.

A decidedly unflattering scowl creases Maul’s features cresting the dune, but all that melts away into a small, evil smile the second he senses it. 

It. It. Not a ‘him’, not ‘Kenobi’, it, the pulsing Force-presence growing steadily stronger as Maul squints out over the wastes, lightsaber cane clutched in one hand. His fingers tighten around the hilt. A fire, closer than he’d dared dream it could be. 

It. 

Tired limbs infused with a new rage-born strength, Maul practically races down the dune, already fumbling to extract his lightsaber from the cane disguise. That smile grows wider even as his breathing grows heavier - look, and there’s a silhouette there, too, he’s right there, he can see him, not just in his mind’s eye but in the flesh - 

The sand clouds around his heels settle in his wake, the desert returning to tranquillity once more as Maul’s chaos passes it by. 

Closer now, almost there - he slows his approach from an almost mad sprint into a crouch, as stealthy as he can manage with his prosthetics squeaking. The noise rings loudly in his ears, amplified a million times by the otherwise silence, but right now Maul doesn’t care for the specifics. What he cares about is the fact that Kenobi is there, right there, barely a hundred metres away from him, out in the wastes, alone and his for the taking. A sitting duck. 

His finger itches on the ignition switch of his saber as he stalks closer. It may have been a few years since Mandalore, but Maul’s about ninety percent certain he still knows how to make an entrance. As soon as he’s in earshot of the fire and the blobby vaguely-Kenobi-like shape slumped in front of it - the Force presence is still weak, why is it still weak? He must have gone soft in his old age - Maul clears his throat dramatically.

“Keno-”

His voice dissolves into a hacking cough and he doubles over, nearly toppling forwards before catching himself with his cane. This, it goes without saying, was not his ideal entrance. Force-dammit. He can’t be showing weakness, not in their first meeting after all these years! His eyes stream as he hacks his guts up, blood spattering the sands below him. Perhaps all those years on Lotho Minor had lasting effects even the witches’ magicks couldn’t counteract.

He straightens up after he’s somewhat recovered, looking towards the fire expectantly. He’s expecting the figure to have stood, drawn his lightsaber, shied away, even moved… but nothing. One of Maul’s eyebrows raises without his permission, and he takes a few steps closer, into the light of the fire. 

“Kenobi…?” he says hesitantly, peering at the - ah. Right.

What he had assumed was the Jedi sitting slumped forwards on a log is not, in fact, that. Instead, Maul comes face-to-face with a pack strapped to the back of a slumbering eopie. The eopie has a harness attached to it, but the end isn’t tethered to anything. 

It farts in its sleep. How quaint. 

“Oh, Obi-Wan. You’ve aged terribly,” Maul mutters, scowling, as he jabs the eopie with his cane. The beast snorts, but doesn’t wake. 

Mistaking the great Jedi General for this… creature? Perhaps he’s losing his vision as well as his mind. The thought brings Maul little comfort. 

But no - the faint trickle of Force energy is still there, humming in the background. It’s the strongest Maul’s felt since landing on this hellhole, but it’s still exactly that: faint. Broken. He could attribute it to distance when he was further away, but now, at what he presumes must be the Jedi’s own camp, it still feels broken. Shattered.

What has happened to the old man? What has he done?

The campfire is still burning, casting an orange glow over the sands and reflecting off of the few still-shiny parts of Maul’s prosthetics. If the fire is still going strong, he cannot be far - perhaps he’s just taking a piss. Maul sniffs, taking another look at the unconscious beast, and sits down in the sand to wait as he takes in the sorry state of affairs that is Kenobi’s camp. He’s waited decades for his revenge; he can serve to wait a little longer.

It’s pathetic, really, what the Jedi’s life seems to have come to. The camp is in disarray: old Republic ration tins strewn haphazardly all over the place, a bundle of rags shaped into something that vaguely resembles a bed, a dented kettle half-buried in the sand near the fire. The Jedi’s stench is drenching the place like a particularly unpalatable perfume - that disgusting, lingering feeling of kindness and weakness that Maul simply cannot abide. 

That confirms it, then. He was here. He should return. And when he does, Maul will strike him down like he deserves. Besides, he’s always liked a dramatic reveal - just the thought of emerging like a wraith from the shadows to surprise the old man, catch him entirely off-guard rather than storm up to him like a man possessed, makes Maul’s face crack into a twisted, thin-lipped smile. 

So he waits. 

And waits. 

And waits.

The sands shift. The moons rise. And Kenobi does not return.

Maul is mildly offended by this. Surely the old Jedi has sensed him by now? Does he not think him worthy of a duel? He had been expecting his quarry to be ready to attack him the moment he set foot on the planet. But… judging by the state of his camp, by the weak pulse of Force where he had assumed there would be the same steady-flowing, roaring waterfall that was present during the Clone Wars…

Something is wrong. 

Maul scowls as he gets back to his feet, cracking his back and wincing as the fire burns lower and lower. He’s going to be pissed if something has broken Kenobi before he has even had the chance to. Ah, well - he’s alive, at least, the presence confirms that - so if worst comes to worst, Maul can at least watch him suffer. The taste of second-hand revenge is not so sweet, but it is miles less bitter than no revenge at all. 

His eyes close for a brief moment and he reaches out with his senses, probing the frayed edges of the Jedi’s psyche. He’s not far, of course - not far at all, barely more than a hundred feet or so away from the embers of the fire - but that’s all he can make out from this distance. The Jedi’s spirit is weak. It will bring me great pleasure to see it decay into nothing more than the ghost of rot. 

With a huff and a muttered curse, Maul snatches his cane from the sand and stalks off into the Tatooine night. Again. The eopie snorts as he passes by, and he has to resist the urge to decapitate it. 

All in good time.

---

The moonslight is faint, and the wind is starting to pick up, but as Maul crests yet another dune neither dimness nor background noise can disguise the distinctive silhouette and choked-back wails of a man sobbing.

The sight fills Maul with more glee than it really has any right to. Oh, this is going to be easy. It may not be as fun as torturing those tears out of him would be otherwise, but the sound of the Jedi crying is the sweetest melody in the galaxy to Maul’s ears. He stands atop the dune and looks down, wreathed in darkness, tattoos faded with age and wear made brilliant yet again by the weak splashes of moonslight that grace his skin, before grinning to himself and half-walking, half-skidding down the slope to reach him. 

Maul is behind him. The Jedi doesn’t turn. 

He’s definitely weeping, Maul can tell that for certain. Hooded figure slumped forwards onto his knees, shoulders shaking, muffled little whimpers coming from his mouth. How pathetic. The Force ebbs and flows around him weakly, the once-great waterfall of his presence reduced to a trickle. 

Maul takes a few steps forward. The Jedi doesn’t turn.

Peering over his shoulder, Maul can just about see that he’s… clutching something in his hands. His shaking hands. The thing he’s clutching is a dull box, dented and dust-covered, not unusual in any way - except Kenobi is holding it like it’s a child, his touch light and almost reverential in its gentleness even through the sobs that wrack his body. 

Maul takes a final step forward - close enough to touch the Jedi’s shoulder, to stab him, to end this all. The Jedi doesn’t turn, but his sobs cease abruptly.

“...hello, Maul,” a voice says from the figure’s hood. Maul blinks. 

The voice is hoarse and scratchy, thick with tears, with the resigned tones of a man on his deathbed. The strident, cocksure voice he knew during the war has all but disappeared. The voice is Coruscanti, but other than that… 

This may as well be a stranger. Another old, forgotten soul in a galaxy full of them.

“Kenobi,” Maul spits with all the venom he can muster - which, to his surprise (and annoyance), isn’t much venom at all. He must be getting soft in his old age. He shifts his stance almost imperceptibly, hand tightening on his cane. “Cease your wailing. It’s unbecoming of you.”

“It is, is it?” the voice says forlornly as the owner drops the box back to the ground with a thud. He does not turn to face Maul, nor does he stand. He simply waits. “My apologies. I don’t have much dignity left these days. I wasn’t aware my… ‘wailing’ would offend you so.”

Maul ignores the comment and lets out a low growl. His thumb brushes against the ignition switch of his saber. “Don’t tell me someone’s finally knocked the fight out of you, old man.”

Not before I’ve had the chance, at least.

“I’m afraid that happened a long time ago.” The figure sighs, and pulls his hood back. Faint shards of moonslight illuminate an unkempt mane of greying locks, lank and unwashed. “You’re here to kill me, then, are you?”

“No, I’m here for a nice cup of h’kak bean tea and a gossip. Of course I’m here to kill you, you old fool.”

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped calling me old. We’re the same age, as I recall.”

“Yes, well, I’m not the one who’s gone greyer than a Kaminoan stormcloud, withering away out here all these years.” Maul scowls and jabs his cane into the figure’s back, eliciting a very satisfying yelp. “Stand up and face me, Kenobi, you coward. Don’t hide behind those pathetic tears.”

The figure sighs again, and somehow the sound is even more pitiful than the first time. “If you’re hoping for a duel, you won’t get one.”

“I don’t need a duel. I need you to face me like a man.”

“Why? You don’t strike me as someone who’s averse to a bit of backstabbing.”

“Just face me, you insolent wretch.”

“As my Lord commands,” the figure says drily. He shifts in his position, carefully moving the old box to the side, and begins to get to his feet. Begins being the key word there.

The process probably takes about thirty seconds in total, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle or pained groan from the figure. Maul’s anger is slowly starting to turn into confusion, and then disbelief. This is what’s become of him? A haunted, doddering old man with grey hair and back pain? The cane almost slips out of his grasp as he gapes at the man formerly known as Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the galaxy’s most feared and respected warriors, struggling to stand on his own two feet.

He manages to steady himself and finally - finally! - faces Maul, and the former Sith Lord visibly winces as he catches sight of the Jedi’s visage. Weathered almost beyond recognition, wrinkles gouged deep into his skin, tears still clinging to his cheeks, all eyebags and gaunt features and hollow, blank gaze. 

“Have I got something on my face?” the husk wearing the skin of Kenobi asks, rubbing his beard. “You’re staring.”

“You look terrible,” Maul says bluntly. A smile graces the Jedi’s cracked lips, a smile devoid of humour, dignity, or hope.

“Thank you. I try. Now, are you going to kill me or am I going to have to do it myself? You did show up at the worst possible time, you know. You’re actually prolonging my lifespan by being here.”

Maul’s eyebrows raise. “...pardon?”

“Well, I was planning on killing myself before you showed up,” Kenobi says mildly. “You’re disrupting my schedule. I would appreciate it if you hurried things along a little.”

"..."

Suicide? Maul makes a choked gagging sound in the back of his throat. The cane finally slips from his fingers, landing with a soft thump in the sand as he stares dumbly at Obi-Wan, who just smiles placidly back at him. No, not Obi-Wan - not the General, the Jedi, the war hero. Whatever this thing is, it's not the warrior that Maul knew. He manages to mask his surprise with another snarl, though, before this - this husk can comment on it.

I should be happy about this. The fool has lost himself entirely. I should take pleasure in it, watching him so hopeless, so destitute. But all Maul feels is a gnawing, biting, crawling sense of dread clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach. He cannot fight this ghost. He cannot give him what he wants.

Obi-Wan sighs wearily and gets down on his knees in front of Maul. How is he so - so calm like this? When he's facing his doom - looking his death in the eye? What happened to him to break him so entirely?

"Well?" he prompts. "Strike me down. I haven't got all day."

Pathetic.

"Look what has become of you," Maul murmurs, stooping to pick up his cane and using the tip to tilt Kenobi's chin up. The fool doesn't resist - Maul's stomach twists with a pang of something unfamiliar. Could that be… pity? No. Impossible. "How did they break you, Obi-Wan? What… happened to you?"

The Jedi raises his eyes to meet Maul's, half-lidded with exhaustion, piercing blue dulled to a weak grey. "Nothing that wasn't my fault," he says quietly. His weak - weak, broken, weak - Force presence spikes with something Maul has never felt coming from the Jedi before. Grief. Fear. Darkness. 

This is not what Maul wanted. This is not what Maul wanted at all.

With a growl, he pushes Kenobi roughly away from himself, leaving him lying prone in the dust. The foolish, broken thing does not even make an effort to get back to his feet. He simply… deflates, eyes blank and devoid of the familiar cunning intelligence Maul has grown to expect, tracking his movements almost lazily as the former Sith stalks towards the discarded box. He can feel echoes as he approaches it, ripples in the Force that concentrate into two separate infinitesimal points, ripe with memories that linger like fat storm clouds around them. 

“This,” Maul hisses, snatching up the box and shaking it. It gives a satisfying rattle. “What is it? Why is it so important to you?”

Obi-Wan does not deign to grace the former Sith with a response. His eyes have suddenly turned from exhausted and uncaring to hollow and haunted and staring, gaze locked onto the box with the precision of a sniper. His fingers dig into the soft sand as he mumbles something incoherent under his breath, makes a sound like a dying bantha, and still does not get up.

Maul scowls. "Weak," he snarls, and tears the box open. The hinges aren't quite rusted shut - not enough moisture on this force-damned planet for that, he supposes - but there's a definite age to it, sand clogging the mechanism, and he struggles for a few seconds before it clicks open - 

And Maul is suddenly hit with a wave of the Dark Side so strong it makes him damn near drop the thing. 

The two lightsabers nestled inside the box, wrapped neatly in clean cloth in stark contrast to the perpetually dusty landscape around him, both stink of festering hatred and unimaginable, inconsolable grief. Maul’s hands start to tremble as he looks down on them, blood-and-bile eyes widening. Even second-hand, the pain that lives within these weapons is just… more. More than the former Sith has ever seen before, even among those artefacts his old Master used to keep scattered around the LiMerge building whilst he was being trained. Maul baulks at the memory - failure, you are a failure, he cast you aside like you were nothing because you are nothing - and reaches out a hand to touch one of the sabers.

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan’s hoarse, broken voice calls from behind him, tone gone from resigned depression to almost desperation - Maul jolts at the sudden tone change. He whirls around to face him, face stony. It doesn’t matter if he’s suicidal or… whatever. The Jedi cannot tell him what to do. Still, he feels a twinge of what might be compassion in his chest, which he immediately forces down and tries to disguise with aggression instead.

“Don’t what?! Why in the galaxy are you keeping Sith artefacts with you?! Don’t you know what they can do to you, what they can do to any Jedi in such close contact with the Dark Side? Oh, Force above, it’s a wonder you haven’t -”

He stops short, then, because the Jedi appears to have started crying again. Kenobi lets out a series of gulping sobs as he reaches one shaking hand towards the box, aged body still lying crumpled in the sand. “Please,” he rasps out between ragged breaths. “Don’t - don’t touch them. Don’t touch them, they’re not Sith artefacts - they’re mine -”

The old man dissolves into incoherent mumbles and muffled crying again, curling into a pitiful little ball of greying hair and frayed edges as his presence in the Force pulses with pain. Maul stares at him in disbelief - he seems to have been doing a lot of that when it comes to Obi-Wan, lately - and slowly withdraws his hand from the box. He sets it down gently on the sand in front of him and shuts the lid.

There is something seriously, seriously wrong with this Jedi. 

For years, the only thing that has sustained Maul has been Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has breathed for him, bled for him, spent decades of sleepless nights half-mad as he imagined ripping the Jedi limb from limb, bathing in the scarlet of his spilled lifeblood. He has wanted nothing more than to get his revenge on the man that destroyed any semblance of a chance that Maul might have had in the first place - make him hurt as he has hurt, make him feel every last drop of pain that Maul has ever felt. 

But staring at the shaking, sobbing bundle of robes and skin and bones, Maul finds that his rage has deserted him for the first time since he can remember. He cannot break what is already broken. He cannot hurt what has already been ruined beyond repair. There is no retribution for him to deliver to such a hopeless, lost soul. 

He finds the mirror of his own madness in the shake of the Jedi’s shoulders, the hushed mumblings that come from behind his hood, the way his fingers dig like scrabbling claws into the sand. The Jedi has disappeared - this is all that is left. Maul’s mission, his only mission, his reason to be… has been left unfulfilled. Washed away by the husk’s choked sobs. 

Maul leans heavily on his cane, just watching Kenobi silently for a few more seconds. Behind the fog of his confusion, however, something begins to formulate. 

The Jedi has disappeared. I am incomplete. There will be no justice until I am the one to break Kenobi’s stride, until I am the one to finally douse that fire in him. I shall just have to… rekindle it. 

I will be his saviour, nurse him back to life, liberate him from his chains - and then I will grind him into dust beneath the heel of my boot. As is my right. 

Maul bends down, picks up the box. The mere sight of the thing makes his stomach lurch, but he dares not risk touching the contents again. He slides it into his pack, then strides over to where Obi-Wan lies drowning in his own sorrow, clearly in the middle of some kind of… episode? Disgusting. 

“Come, Jedi. Enough of that.”

He grips Kenobi’s forearms with his gloved hands and hoists him to his feet. After a few seconds of awkward, weak swaying and ragdoll-like limbs, it becomes abundantly clear that the Jedi is not going to be able to walk on his own. With a weary, resigned sigh - oh, I’m already regretting this - he picks Kenobi up as easily as if he were a child, putting him over his shoulder a little haphazardly. This brings forth a pained grunt that Maul takes far too much satisfaction in, and Kenobi starts pummeling his chest weakly with clenched fists. 

“Cease your whining. You need to eat. You’re skin and bones as it is,” Maul chastises, voice dripping with false cheerfulness as he starts to haul the Jedi up the dunes. His skin is cold against Maul’s back - far too cold to be healthy. Maul hopes to all hope that the meagre fire at the camp has not gone completely out yet. 

“And sleep. You look like you haven’t slept in the past three years.”

Kenobi manages to get out a weak ‘I haven’t’, before his body goes limp, leaving Maul with the long and arduous task of heaving an unconscious, unwashed, slightly smelly nemesis back towards his salvation - and, eventually, his doom. 

#jase writes #obimaul #what if i pinned you. huh. what then. #*incredibly traumatised war veteran* i can fuck him up more :3 #sw #maul #twin suns #obi-wan kenobi #ao3. scares me sometimes so its going on here instead #also btw i've been thinking about that post about kyber crystals A Lot and i can't remember what it said exactly but #thinking about how they can absorb the emotions and memories of the wielder and sobbing quietly to myself #dragging myself kicking and screaming out of my year long writer's block

[dcconfessions]

Idk I never can take seriously the whole Titans Tower fight between Jason and Tim, like it feels like they just decided this pokemon should fight this pokemon and thought of nothing else. It's up there with Brothers in Blood on it's level of ridiculousness (and like who the fuck takes this one seriously, they literally made Jason an octopus monster)

.

#dc confessions #asks #anon #u: comics #c: jason todd #c: tim drake #i like it for shits & giggles it's so funny #like imagine youre sixteen having the worst year of ur life & this goofy ass bitch decides to take out his daddy issues on you specifically #if i was tim i would never forgive him. not even for the beating but for the fucking timing of it #like this self-absorbed asshat really decided to do this to kick off the fucking worst year of your life. he really had to do it THAT YEAR. #then went around undoing all your progress with bruce & upsetting your brother & your SISTER hates him too like i would hate him forever

[the-darklings]

Dream's stare flicks down your body, the coat-

His coat.

His hand stretches towards you. "Wanderer."

You rip yourself away form the Dreaming in a single breath.

#submission #gifset: tibyim #part nine: year 1021 #kat’s notes: THE WAY THAT I WANT TO CHEW THIS TO ABSORB THIS GIFSET #OH GOD. OH FUCK. #your power is wow. your vision is otherworldly. i envy your gif making skills #spare crumbs of talent 🤲 #also that final gif………. wait till part X 🥴 gonna hit diff real soon #cannot thank you enough. the way they see each other. perhaps TOO well to a point they run from it #gosh. brainrot. #fic: today i bury you in me #dream/wanderer

[girlwiththegreenhat]

antiques seem to be tumblr's trend of the day, so i am making Everyone look at this gorgeous old max factor lipstick i bought Sunday. there's still lipstick in the tube

#antiques #max factor #1950s #vintage #makeup #cosmetics #history #antique makeup #liz blogs #i will not use the lipstick because it probably has fucking asbestos in it. but it's in there #i follow an antique beauty youtuber and she has a huge collection of vintage makeups #so i recognized this style as Very old. and max factor Definitely doesn't exist anymore. ... I Think #im p sure it got absorbed into another company #i almost want to find a lipstick that will fit in this little case and carry it with me when i have makeup on #but this is much too gorgeous to risk getting dinged up in my purse #it belongs on a shelf for preservation #it's in such good condition for being 70 years old

[pixiecactus]

not wanting to tag this bc obvious reasons but i hate asoiaf modern aus so bad, if it's your thing more power to you, but all i see is just heavy mischaracterizations of all the characters, i mean almost all modern aus have arya and sansa being besties... like at this point did you actually read the books, yeah they are sisters and probably always will be, but currently they don't have a good relationship, how could that be when the oldest sister bullies and completely bashes the younger sister self-esteem

#i once read a modern au where gendry called arya “horseface” to her face just to amuse and make jeyne poole and sansa smile #most modern aus are flawless!sansa propaganda #people really took that stupid sun and moon quote and run rampant with it #people can be family (in this case sisters) and still not be close and have a bad relationship #long sigh #i hate it here #do i think that if we get a future arya/sansa reunion arya will be happy to see her sister is still alive after everything?? #yes i do that's the type of person that arya is #do i think that they will be close after getting reunited... and be “stark sisters uwu besties forevah”?? #no i don't #i get that the “stark sisters” stans are just stansas that want arya as sansa's lap dog but i think they are pretty stupid to think #that progessive!arya (she was always this way) will comply to classist!sansa orders just because she's older #do i think that not getting the five year gap between adwd and twow definitely fucked sansa's character arc over?? #yes i do #maybe if we had gotten the five years skip maybe sansa would have matured as a person but right now we are five books in #and she's still a stupidly naive classist brat who's pretty much main trait is being self absorbed

[sheilaerinniperonista]

when I say Sheila E. I mean Sheila E. idgaf about those two others gay boys go get ur own fanfic this is about her

#fugo.txt #sorry fugio i outgrew you like two years ago and now youre just another mildly annoying ship 😭... #if i search her up then i mean HER whats so hard to understand. its like if i looked up that stupid puppet from saw and i got - #- those two other guys fucking each other raw in the ass. like okay ty i didnt mean you 👍👍 #im so annoying fr #talking about Giorno. im re reading jorjor ☝️☝️ be cause i miss them #i miss Bruno Bugatti so much. forgot how cunty he was. mother #i need to figure out what ivrea volume has him busting it down on that pole. for reasons #im reading so much manga because since i had that fight w my friend group and we broke off i have a lot of #free time. so you know. #and also because next year after i graduate i wanna go to jp classes so i wanna absorb as much as i can. and anime seems to be my best bet #to absorb info. i still struggle with writing and reading but idk im getting there. slowly. #reminds me when i learned English lol. although back then i wasnt purposely trying to learn. can you believe i got so fluent on accident?! #anyways i fuckinf got so off trackkk on these tags sorry im unmedicated #jjba #phf

[uwulouis]

.

#ok i will say smth abt it bc im a little pissed hehe #and verito is not answering my texts so now u all have to hear it #im not self absorbed enough to believe i know what's best for phoebe or if she planned it or not or whatever #the way she announced it seems she's pretty excited so good for her #but honestly some of the takes i've seen on here... #people in their middle/late 20s calling this 19 year old girl an idiot #saying that she must not know the difference between her vagina and her urethra #that louis must be soo disappointed and that he didn't pay and expensive school for her to get pregnant (????????) #do u guys hear yourselves what the actual fuck #ofc teen pregnancy is an issue worldwide but is this really the hill you're gonna die on?? that it's all the girl's fault bc she's stupid?? #u sound like a 50 yo congressman wtf is the actual matter with you #people i've seen joking about how long until her bf leaves her... #i literally encourage u to seek help it is not normal to lack empathy in this way and to be so cruel to a person who has #literally done nothing to you #also louis can pay for whatever school he likes he still doesn't have the right to decide over his little sister's body?? do u guys #hear yourselves be so real with me rn #also how do u even know he's upset?? #tfw some of u think u know louis.. it's insane #i literally am in shock at some of the things i had to read today #i really hope you are not in any field where people come to you for help #especially girls especially young girls #you guys are insane lmao #that's all <33 #shut up laura

[unloneliest]

okay also fuck ex friend for REAL for real for misgendering me on purpose in the twitter rants about how much i suck. even though he's also not cis

#i don't dwell on this often but i looked back at my screenshots at the start of this month to remind myself i'm not imagining how bad it was #and realized it was actually worse than i remembered it. the level of treatment i experienced was worse than i remembered and i'm not #exaggerating and it makes sense that i'm still processing. start of the month was 3 yr anniversary of knowing how bad it was. ANYWAYS #jam posts #vampire pit #the only other option besides 'got misgendered on purpose' is. that he was over a year behind on what pronouns i used #and he may honestly have been self absorbed enough for that to be what happened. which also fucking SUCKS considering how much i poured int #that relationship 💀 #was one of my friendships i treated like a partnership without having the internal framework or label to apply to it that it was that. but.

[r0bee]

REX AND AMANDA'S ROMANCE HAS ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKED UP RN OH MY GOD

(full on comic spoilers under the cut just in case)

FUCKING ME UPPPPP

#They've had me on the ropes for a long time but throwing her into space was my final fucking straw oh my god #Like I've been staring into space thinking of their epic centuries spanning alien dimension romance the past few days #Now THIS #There's only so much I can TAKE (I'm loving it actually it's so OUCH) #They both won't give up but he doesn't love her enough to give up what he's doing and she loves him too much to give up on him #I want to explode and die #Also I did decide to take a break right after he throws her into space to kill her bc I need time to absorb it #So I'll see if she somehow survives or not lager #Later* #But yeah holy shit dude #She loved him for SEVEN HUNDRED YEARS and he THREW HER INTO SPACE bc she was getting in the way of his plans. #But also he's GENUINELY DEVASTATED BY IT. He's WEEPING ON THE FLOOR BC OF IT. BUT HE DID IT ANYWAY. #It's so FUCKED #invincible comic

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

wow low fodmap diet fucking sucks when combined with autism food aversions

I am going to starve

#lula's life #autism #fodmap #tw diet #my guts haven't been normal in years #I gotta go low fodmap to see if I have IBS #I can maybe cook like two meals on this diet #I've been ignoring it for so long because I didn't want to restrict my diet more than it already is #but food is just running right through me I've gotta be absorbing fuck all nutrients #I'm so tired

[trans-estinien]

i love being autistic cause sometimes i get a glimpse into how regular people perceive things and its like. what the fuck. what the fuck is that? you live like this? and its normal?? i think YOURE the weird one actually. im fine. thanks though.

#THERES SO MANY WEIRD RULES #LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEAN PEOPLE PAY ATTENTION TO HOW SOMEONE WALKS LIKE HUH????? WHY???????????? #can someone fucking explain the dude head nod thing to me why do we do that. whats that about. ive never seen anyone do that irl before #is that an american thing or do i just hang around too many afab people #i am learning the intricacies of cis people gender rules and i am. what fucking planet have i been on the last 17 years like what is this #was there some like. rulebook they handed out at somepoint they forgot to give to me or something #“best way to learn is to observe the men around you” OBSERVE WHAT. YOU PEOPLE PAY THAT MUCH ATTENTION TO EVERY LITTLE MOVEMENT???? #bruh i can barely make eye contact w people... #my ass has never intentionally copied someones mannerisms ever. #i do it subconsciously. but doing it actively feels weird and wrong and like im breaking someones boundaries #“men dont smile at people.” well they should. #ive decided cishet men are the most boring people on the planet #“dont move with your hands” YOURE BREAKING MY POOR THEATER KID HEART #i need to meet more gay men irl to absorb the vibe of cause i only know like two. not counting myself #i want people to look at me and go. ah yes. fruit. #at this point im just going to accept being misgendered for the rest of eternity. id rather die than be boring in the way cishet men are #my flavor of being trans is so influenced by my autism cause my perception of genders is completely off from what everyone else is doing #im like. yeah i want to be a man. and then i look at what the majority of men are actually like and its like. wait no. not like that #shoutout to flamboyant gay men where would i be without them #i think the thing that bothers me the most is that like #in my mind peoples genders are just. the way they express themselves. #its not like. this super big complex deal like how everyone else treats it. if that makes sense? like. #regular people have so many rules for what counts as a man or what counts as a woman or what counts as neither and its like??? #you can do what you want???? why do we care???? #and ive been doing this since i was little. on account of the autism #i just. dont get why its such a big deal to people. #i cant wrap my head around it at all #not nonbinary not a girl not aegender not a man but a secret fourth thing #(man but i do it my way instead of everyone elses way) #unfortunately doing it my way just. leads to the misgendering dimension. for some reason

[rejectory]

dune pt 2 best movie ever made

#quote me #deliver me #fuck!!!!!!!!!!! #good nigjt i will be absorbing this for a year or so #in the meantime fling my way a chani to write paul against

[hartro-owns-my-heart-ro]

ok tantrum over im looking up writing resources

#i dont think i properly absorbed technical writing stuff as a kid but learning writing theory now makes me Really embarrassed #visual theory is just like. information but writing theory makes me feel like a 10 year old #‘these are the sentence structures’ I KNOW WHAT A FUCKING SENTENCE STRUCTURE IS #(<- could not name all the sentence structure types or when is best to apply them)