#but they help get me through
inkedrings · 4 months ago
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Some much needed sibling bonding time (Pt. 1)
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napstawantstosleep · 3 months ago
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Just thinking about cottagecore Eret don't mind me
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batarangsoundsdumb · 4 months ago
bruce: so billy where are your parents?
billy: i don't have any ??
bruce: oh really me too? did yours get murdered or did they just die tragically?
billy: they were murdered-
bruce: oh my god MINE TOO
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ledtasso · 9 months ago
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“I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others-- the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.” ― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated.
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penandinkprincess · 3 days ago
okay but jaskier who starts a rumor that a witcher kissing a baby will give the child good luck forever partially as part of his efforts to change the lore around witchers and partially because a tiny, tiny baby in geralt’s massive hands is cute enough to make him nearly SWOON
#geraskier#geralt#jaskier#pen posts#geralt had to hold a baby once when he was helping a family out of a cart that had crashed so he could help lift it#and jaskier filed that away under 'oh gods that gives me heart palpitations'#and he will see it again so help him GODS#pffft he succeeds and didn't fully think through the part that oh yeah#there are witchers besides his white wolf#so one day a new witcher named lambert corners him in a marketplace and picks him up by his shirt and pins him against a wall#which is exciting and gives him ideas for a roleplay with geralt later but probably not great#and giant angry man leans in and snarls#'why the FUCK do i keep having to kiss fucking BABIES bard?'#just the very IDEA of lambert getting handed a baby by a very eager-eyed parent making little motions with their hands#'go on then i ask for your blessing'#lambert's WHAT#pfft he kisses it and the baby GIGGLES and lambert's like 'yep. having a stroke. definitely having a stroke'#geralt just didn't think he'd actually manage to do it#which is why he didn't give ANY of the other witchers a heads up#the first time geralt gets asked to do it is by a cousin of jaskier's that owes him a favor at a party#and then the other nobles see it happen#and hear the whispers of 'the best blessing you can give to a child' that jaskier carefully planted#and suddenly geralt is wide eyed and cornered with a pack of nannies surrounding him with their charges#oh man little kids growing up SO PROUD that they were witcher-kissed#just proudly marching up to witchers in marketplaces because they were KISSED by a witcher when they were a BABY#so they're special and OBVIOUSLY this witcher will also help them find their way home#oh man little kid tugging a witcher down to their knees and kissing their cheek#cause now they're even#their kisses may not be magic but mama's are so maybe some of that rubs off?#can't hurt to try!
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lmaonade · a month ago
hi guys
been dreading this post. yesterday, may 3rd, i had my cat ditters put to sleep. he was my best friend, and always will be. he lived a very long 17 years, and went peacefully. you guys have shown me a lot of support with his vet visits, so i thought people should know. i know he was loved even by strangers who never met him.
he was a happy cat, and was well taken care of, and maybe a little too well fed. there's not much to say other than that i will miss him dearly and that i loved him so much.
i gave him lots of love and his favorite treats beforehand. rest well buddy
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ellelans · 2 months ago
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He looks happy. Cause he got the help he needed.And that started with you.Whatever happens to him next-you gave him that second chance.Maybe that’s the point. Yeah,maybe it is.
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peachbellyfull · 6 months ago
i was inspired by @cheeseburgersinparadise ‘s post, so here’s my before and after of this year:
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left is a pic from january and right is from tonight 🤭
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andromeda3116 · 2 years ago
So let's talk about the Lost Generation.
This is the generation that came of age during WWI and the 1918 flu pandemic. They witnessed their world collapse in the first war that spread around the globe, and they -- in retrospect, optimistically -- called it the "war to end all wars". And that war was a quagmire. The trenches on the Western Front were notoriously awful, unsanitary and cold and wet and teeming with sickness, and bloody battles were fought to gain or lose a few feet of territory, and all because a series of alliances caused one assassination in one unstable area to spiral into a brutal large-scale war fought on the ground by people who mostly had no personal stake in the outcomes and gained nothing from winning.
On some of the worst-hit battlefields, the land is still too toxic for plant growth.
And on the heels of this horrific war, a pandemic struck. It's often referred to as "the Spanish flu" because Spain was neutral in the war, and so was the first country to admit that their people were dropping like flies. By the time the warring countries were willing to face the disease, it was far too late to contain it.
Anywhere from 50 to 100 million people worldwide would die from it. 675,000 were in the US.
But once it was finally contained -- anywhere from a year to a year and a half later -- the 20s had begun, and they began roaring.
Hedonism abounded. Alcohol flowed like water in spite of Prohibition. Music and dance and art fluorished. It was the age of Dadaism, an artistic movement of surrealism, absurdism, and abstraction. Women's skirts rose and haircuts shortened in a flamboyant rejection of the social norms of the previous decades. It was a time of glitter and glamour and jazz and flash, and (save for the art that was made) it was mostly skin deep.
Everyone stumbled out of the war and pandemic desperate to forget the horrific things they'd seen and done and all that they'd lost, and lost for nothing.
Reality seemed so pointless. It's not a coincidence that the two codifiers of the fantasy genre -- J.R.R. Tolkein and C.S. Lewis -- both fought in WWI. In fact, they were school friends before the war, and were the only two of their group to return home. Tolkein wanted to rewrite the history of Europe, while Lewis wanted to rebuild faith in the escape from the world.
(There's a reason Frodo goes into the West: physically, he returned to the Shire, but mentally, he never came back from Mordor, and he couldn't live his whole life there. There's a reason three of the Pevensies can never let go of Narnia: in Narnia, unlike reality, the things they did and fought for and believed in actually mattered, were actually worth the price they paid.)
It's also no coincidence that many of the famous artists of the time either killed themselves outright or let their vices do them in. The 20s roared both in spite of and because of the despair of the Lost Generation.
It was also the era of the Harlem Renaissance, which came to the feelings of alienation and disillusionment from a different direction: there was a large migration of Black people from the South, many of whom moved to the Harlem neighborhood of New York City. Obviously, the sense of alienation wasn't new to Black people in America, but the cultural shift allowed for them to publicly express it in the arts and literature in ways that hadn't been open to them before.
There was also horrific -- and state-sanctioned -- violence perpetrated against Black communities in this time, furthering the anger and despair and sense that society had not only failed them but had never even given them a chance. The term at the time was shell-shock, but now we know it as PTSD, and the vast majority of the people who came of age between 1910 and 1920 suffered from it, from one source or another.
It was an entire generation of trauma, and then the stock market crashed in 1929. Helpless, angry, impotent in the face of all that had seemingly destroyed the world for them, on the verge of utter despair, it was also a generation vulnerable to despotism. In the wake of all this chaos -- god, please, someone just take control of all this mess and set it right.
Sometimes the person who took over was decent and played by the rules and at least attempted to do the right thing. Other times, they were self-serving and hateful and committed to subjugating anyone who didn't fit their mold.
There are a lot of parallels to now, but we have something they didn't, and that's the fact that they did it first.
We know what their mistakes and sins were. We have the gift of history to see the whole picture and what worked and what failed. We as a species have walked this road before, and we weren't any happier or stronger or smarter about it the first time.
I think I want to reiterate that point: the Lost Generation were no stronger or weaker than Millennials and Gen Z are today. Plenty of both have risen up and fought back, and plenty have stumbled and been crushed under the weight. Plenty have been horribly abused by the people who were supposed to lead them, and plenty have done the abusing. Plenty of great art has been made by both, and plenty of it is escapist fantasy or scathing criticism or inspiring optimism or despairing pessimism.
We find humor in much the same things, because when reality is a mess, both the absurd and the self-deprecating become hilarious in comparison. There's a reason modern audiences don't find Seinfeld as funny as Gen X does, and many older audiences find modern comedy impenetrable and baffling -- they're different kinds of humor from different realities.
I think my point accumulates into this: in spite of how awful and hopeless and pointless everything feels, we do have a guide. We've been through this before, as a culture, and even though all of them are gone now, we have their words and art and memory to help us. We know now what they didn't then: there is a future.
The path forward is a hard one, and the only thing that makes it easier is human connection. Art -- in the most base sense, anything that is an expression of emotion and thought into a medium that allows it to be shared -- is the best and most enduring vehicle for that connection, to reach not just loved ones but people a thousand miles or a hundred years away.
So don't bottle it up. Don't pretend to be okay when you're not. Paint it, sculpt it, write it, play it, sing it, scream it, hell, you can even meme it out into the void. Whatever it takes to reach someone else -- not just for yourself but for others, both present and future.
Because, to quote the inimitable Terry Pratchett, "in a hundred years we'll all be dead, but here and now, we are alive."
#politics#us politics#optimism#history#humanism#gnu terry pratchett#(i suppose. i do think that i wouldn't be able to think of this in this way without - for example - having read small gods.)#which also sort of illustrates the point? i mean sir terry has been dead five years but his words live on to inspire even now#i've gotten a lot of humbling responses to 'such selfish prayers' that echo that sort of sentiment - and more recently - that just reiterate#to me how important art is in connecting to others#i mean.... i wrote that fic four years ago when i was myself going through a tough time and it may seem like i Had I Together but really#i was writing out what i desperately needed to hear; what i wanted to be told#that's why it is on occasion a little... unfair to aang perhaps (although i think that's more in the writing than the intent)#i was dealing with the end of that kind of relationship - where he wasn't evil and it wasn't bad but we were just *wrong* for one another#and he wanted to get back together and i may even have said to a friend at the time what katara does to iroh about 'i thought he was ready#to be frienda again. *i* was ready to be friends again.'#and especially the last chapter was me writing out what i needed to believe. i distinctly recall thinking 'maybe this is too idealistic.'#before deciding that if ever there was a time for ideals it was that moment. i *needed* the ideals. i *needed* that katara.#and that's clearly resonated with a lot of people and that makes my heart so full i don't even know how to respond#art is how we connect with one another; it's how we survive these trials and help each other through#art is always valuable if only for its sake#i'm trying so hard to get into writing again but mostly what i've been finishing is essays like this. and i suppose that's enough for now#but i need to create again; to express. i have this scream swelling in my chest and it needs to get out and be heard.
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spoopdeedoop · a year ago
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i just want them to get married and be happy is that too much to ask
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tackytigerfic · 5 months ago
Far Side
For the @drarrymicrofic prompt Euphoria. Werewolf Harry, Dad Draco, kidfic. CW for brief mention of a newborn, barely-there sex. Umm I do not know, my idea was that Harry and Draco meet up for the first time in years and Harry gets a sort of wolfy impulse about Draco being his mate, it's all very implied lmao
Harry has a photo on his desk; he says it’s his favourite.
Draco with Scorpius, newly born, just a few minutes old. In the corner, out of focus, there’s the tired edge of Astoria in her hospital bed, but the camera lingers on Draco and the baby, close quarters to the impossible newness of it all. Draco can’t even remember who was holding the camera.
Draco comes by the office to take Harry for lunch, sees the photo in its pale wood frame. He’s mildly horrified; the frame is set at an angle on the desk so anyone can see it. Draco turns it inwards towards Harry’s chair, but Harry’s quicker, hands gentle around the frame, setting it carefully back where it was. It’s a proclamation Draco’s not sure he was expecting.
The moon is waxing gibbous, and Harry is restless, pacing, the strung-bow quiver of a pounce behind his every movement, and he stills only when Draco touches him, face turning up for a kiss as though it was all he had been waiting for.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry says, and that’s when he says it. My favourite, he says, a big expression for something that wasn’t even his back then. “Why don’t you like it?”
“I like it,” Draco says, but he doesn’t, really. “But I was so worried. He was so small, and Astoria...”
“Look at your face, though,” Harry says, and they both watch the photo in silence. In it, Draco’s head dips and raises in a constant, wondering loop, face brightening when he peers into the swaddled bundle as though he’s holding magic itself, a new sun. His unbearably young self untucks the blanket and Scorpius emerges, still wet and crumpled-looking, the small starfish clutch of his hand reaching out, his opening mouth a silent squall.
“I wish I had been there,” Harry says gently, and Draco wishes he could have—somehow, impossibly—been there too.
Instead, Draco had done it by himself, for years—minding the baby, getting Astoria back on her feet, and when the inheritance issue was settled, helping her move to her apartment in France where Scorpius now spends most of the summers and comes back to England each September with new freckles and his hair bleached to sand-silver.
And then, amazingly, one night—feeling out of place at a work party he had tried to get out of attending, holding a glass of wine warmed through by his nervous hand—Draco had met Harry Potter for the first time since Hogwarts and everything that had been for them. Harry, who was at Draco’s side within about three minutes of arriving at the party; Harry, who told him he looked exactly the same, gaze lingering on Draco’s mouth; Harry, who didn’t look the same—streaks of silver coiling through his curls, smile lines sketched around his eyes—but older and bigger and all the better for it.
Draco had heard about the incident in Ireland, of course, had known about the bite. Knowing wasn’t knowing, though; it didn’t encompass the feeling of Harry’s shaky inhale when Draco shifted nearer, the barest promise of incisor in his smile, the press of fabric around the bulge of bicep when Harry pushed his sleeves up, impatient with heat and maybe something more.
In front of everyone at the party, Draco put his drink down and let Harry press his face into Draco’s neck, his panting breath at Draco’s frantic pulsepoint. They fucked in the toilets in the Ministry basement, Harry barely getting his trousers unbuttoned, Draco with his formal robes still hanging off his shoulders, his fingers tracing the puckered scar tissue at Harry’s shoulder.
“We need to talk about it,” Harry said after, though it was obvious to both of them that, while Harry was the one who had been bitten, mate ran both ways between them. But Draco had to go, already late for the babysitter, and Harry’s eyes were bright with some sort of tenderness when Draco explained, stealing yet another kiss.
It took months before Draco introduced Harry to Scorpius, but of course he needn’t have worried.
“It’s a pack thing,” Harry said from under the dense sleeping shape of Scorpius, both of them curled around each other on the couch. “He smells right. He seems to like me too, right?”
“What would you have done if he didn’t?” Draco asked. He didn’t have to tell Harry what would happen if it had come down to a choice between them.
Harry growled softly, amused, and Scorpius shifted in his sleep, one slack pink cheek visible under the possessive curl of Harry’s arm.
“I’m not just the wolf, you know,” Harry said. “You know I would never—”
“No, I know,” Draco told him. “I like to think this whole thing is still our choice.” He waved a hand, encompassing the couch, the sleeping child, two cups of tea standing cool on the side table, and at the window, a sly wink of moon.
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vaguely-concerned · 4 months ago
the more I think about it the more hilarious AND moving it is that of all people, dorian 'you're asking me to become a unicorn when I've never even seen one' pavus and iron 'did not grow up with even a cultural conception of romantic relationships/attraction except as a sort of regrettable mental illness that gets you sent to the secret police for Reeducation' bull, with the full nonsense of their romeo and juliette-esque sociopolitical backgrounds and the pressure of having to be long-distance most of the time bearing down on them to boot, can somehow manage to stumble into one of the most stable and committed background relationships in the entire franchise fjdskaflas
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toboldlymuppet · 5 months ago
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all you do is ruin those around you
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gnoust · 5 months ago
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Finding sketches that I didn’t find funny last year but suddenly find hilarious this year is my new talent
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blossomfully · 19 days ago
Hi I am having the most awful awful time right now please can somebody send some light?
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gothteddies · 2 months ago
Content Warning - Heavy CNC Roleplay Audio
POV I stop you in the parking garage with an unspecified weapon held to your back, then force you to walk back with me to where my car is waiting.
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xbuster · 3 months ago
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A convenient way to explain the school setting without Ranma having to do any actual learning
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very gentle reminder that mental health bloggers aren't your therapists. 
there are so many helpful people & resources on this site and I encourage you to use that. read our posts, ask questions, submit asks (just read the guidelines first). we post this stuff to be helpful! but at the end of the day most of us are not professionals, we probably don't know you personally, and we get overwhelmed too. 
use mental health tumblr as the resource it is, bc it is an enormously valuable resource! my goodness i have learned so much on here. but don't use it as a replacement for professional help, especially in emergencies. it's not fair to us or to you. (there are very very few situations where a tumblr blogger should be your go-to in a personal crisis. i cannot overemphasize how unhealthy and dangerous that trend is for all parties involved. please call a crisis hotline first.)
If you are struggling in any way, I highly encourage you to speak to someone qualified. I am asking people to share links to resources in the notes (online therapy resources, counselling hotlines & chat services, and especially any helpful lists that have already been compiled.)
#not a shitpost#serious post#mental health#a common experience for me as a popular blogger who talks about mental health#is that i will occasionally get contacted by someone I don't really know who is panicked and overwhelmed#and not knowing who else to turn to decides to use my inbox or DMs to overshare really personal and stressful information#that most of the time I'm not qualified to help with#it's not the only reason i rarely read my messages anymore (executive dysfunction and targetted harassment being big reasons themselves)#but there have been some traumatic and stressful incidents that cemented that decision#please know that i am real and sincere in my desire that everyone in this little community we've built#will experience recovery and will recieve the support and resources they need to do so#but the job I have chosen to myself is to promote weird positivity & make people laugh#and yes to encourage people to take the next step and seek help. be it through therapy or medication management or a help program etc#i really really encourage that!#but please know i am not the person you need to be talking to about that#i can point you in the right direction with my blog content#but i'm not a professional and i am also in the middle of my own recovery#it means...holy shit i cannot emphasize how much it means to recieve comments along the lines of#'your content helped me/encouraged me to make changes/helped me realize i have this disorder/made me feel less alone'#i love those messages and I show a lot of them to my mom and save them in a little folder i can look at when i need positivity#thank you so much for those!#and also the messages along the lines of 'i'm going through some shit right now but you made me smile on a shitty day'#i love those bc i have had many dark days of my own & i remember my gratitude and love for the things that added bright spots to dark times#the majority of the messages & comments you guys send are lovely!#but please know I'm not in the position where i can offer advice about specific situations#and yes i wish i had the time and energy to offer individual comfort and conversation to anyone who needs it#but i don't. so i am focusing on what i CAN do.#which is i think to build an online space that feels safe and funny and weird and inclusive#and to sprinkle in liberal helpings of things i wish i had known earlier in regards to mental health and wellness#long post
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miggiisdumb · 2 months ago
Living in terror of your dyslexia when you’re pro hero Bakugou’s secretary because this asshole makes your life unnecessarily hard (he can’t help himself okay? You’re just so cute when you’re exasperated.)
Handing him a list of things his pr agent advised he did to “manage his temper” and Bakugou just slides the paper back to you. A brow raised, thin lips tugging at the corner, asking you what the thing he highlighted is supposed to mean. It takes all of his will power not to burst out laughing at the horror on your face when you realize you wrote “breeding exercises”:( probably says something slick too… like he’ll give it a shot if that’s what you’re asking of him…💀
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arcanewonder · 7 months ago
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we sleep to wake.
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