can’t wait to commission an oil portrait of myself but make it really fucked up and scary and then i’ll store it in some dusty back room of my manor house and deliberately set up dinner party guests to stumble across it and then when they’re gazing upon its wretched face i can dramatically step out of the shadows and chuckle villainously as i give some half-baked excuse as to why it’s like that and then i’ll usher them back to dinner and spend the rest of the evening dropping hints that add up to me being born sometime in the 1770s despite my obvious youth
how insidious to make young girls buy hundreds of dollars worth of makeup, to force them to read up on its theory, to make them practice it for hours in order to escape mockery, to make them feel safe only when performing this hyper femininity, and then to even have the audacity to package it in feminist language so that they firmly believe it sets them free.
who called you out on your sloppy wings
I know you probably think you’re really witty, but I just want you to know that you, and all the other people who made that joke, prove my point exactly.
ok but say i use makeup not to mask anything but because i think it’s fun to wear
insecurity sells but makeup isn’t inherently bad
am i missing a point? taking this too personally? i just really like makeup :/
Yes to both. No one’s saying make up is 100% horrible but the industry is.
I haven’t been on tumblr for quite as long as a lot of people but over several years I’ve noticed this interesting gradual sorta,, shift in the general culture? that it went from this mostly depressed, nihilistic outlook where people would regularly joke about hating themselves and being hopeless and depressed, to a wave of vehemence of “STOP hating everything actually the world is Good and you deserve love!!!” type posts, to now, where those aggressive ‘PSAs’ have faded away and instead I regularly see people romanticizing simple things like stars and hot tea and rainy mornings, and waxing poetic about their friends, and just trying to put love out there. and I don’t know exactly what that means (someone who knows more than me could probably say something smart about generational expression and trauma or popular perception of mental health and whatnot), but I do know that it makes my heart very full to see people learn to love the world and themselves by extension, and a whole userbase adopting healthier coping mechanisms, and therefore teaching the younger users to do so as well. I might just be following different people, but I really do think we’ve grown. everyone has grown. five years ago it wasn’t unusual for the next post on my dash to be a scathing commentary on why nothing matters or an anon ripping into someone they barely knew or someone complaining about how pathetic their interests are. now I have mutuals who get excited and spam reblog art of cows and friends I see tagging each other in pictures of frogs and strangers writing paragraphs about how much I matter. it makes me happy. idk. just an observation I wanted to make. I think people are good and everyone’s just trying their best at the end of the day
I take it all back everyone on this site is toxic
Ya’ll be like “Shang was having a bi freak out, realizing he was into Ping”. NO HE WASN’T. He already knew he was into men. His bisexual freak out was when he realized Ping was Mulan and hey maybe he’s into girls too whatdoya know?
Legit you think a bi man who has always been in such a male-dominated space like the army hadn’t already figured out that he liked men? Come oooonnnn… It’s women he has rarely had contact with and has no idea how to talk to or flirt with (you fight good) I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL.
In “A Girl Worth Fighting For” Shang has zero lines I REST MY FUCKING CASE.
I am Looking at these tags my guy
[ID: Screenshot of tags that read:
ppl don’t like to imagine bi ppl coming to terms with being bi after identifying as gay bc they think that’s a downgrade lol. That’s why there’s like 100000 stories about cishets realizing they were bi and like 2 of gay ppl realizing they were bi.
Here’s some positivity for atheists!
You’re amazing. You’re brave. You’re strong. You’re not a bad person for not believing. You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. You shouldn’t have to be afraid to express yourself. I hope you have a beautiful day every day!
the unholy trinity of piss-poor caretakers, tag yourself:
- tomboy, meaning “this child is clearly queer but let’s hope it goes away”
- sensitive, meaning “clearly neurodivergent and often distressed but let’s keep going until they grow numb”
- mature, meaning “traumatized but let’s ignore that”
- quiet, meaning “has been yelled at or ignored a few too many times and now considers all attempts at communicating with others to be pointless”
- self-sufficient, meaning “next to zero trust in parental figures’ ability in various aspects of parenting”
- lazy, meaning “depressed, but expected to preform tasks or actions without positive support or knowledge of how to do things”
You could say it serves them right to be forced to look after me after not doing so in my childhood except 1.) that isn’t fair to me as I want to live a normal life and 2.) my dad still purposefully evades helping me exist in any way so it’s 100% on my mom who never physically neglected me anyway.
A couple days ago I felt so bad for my mom because the sink was overflowing with dishes and she was exhausted from work. I was in considerable pain but I wanted to help so I did like four dishes and was in absolute agony but kept at it for a couple more and I felt like everything in my body was dying so I just tapped out.
I wish I could do anything.
Is it being an eldest daughter? Is it the physical and emotional neglect? Is it innate?
I have to care for everyone at all times and no one should help me take care of myself but myself. I am personally responsible for the wellbeing of all people, plants, and animals on this wretched earth.
Except now I’m disabled and my inability to do jack shit means everyone who is used to me being responsible for everything has to help me out and I Fucking Hate It because it Isn’t Right. This isn’t how I raised myself.
Abusers don’t come with warning labels.
Abusers don’t hit you on the first date. They don’t write “I will humiliate and belittle you” on their Tinder profiles. They don’t wear “I break things to intimidate my partner” t-shirts. People don’t get trapped in damaging relationships because they saw an abuser coming from 20 yards away and decided “I’m going to date that person anyway”. That’s not how any of this works.
In the beginning, abusers can be some of the most thoughtful, attentive people you’ll ever meet. They’re obsessed with you; that’s what makes them so toxic and deadly as time goes on. Abusers buy you flowers. They remember your birthday. They remember to text you “good morning” and “good night”. They listen to your problems, confide in you and share silly inside jokes. They can keep that “loving, doting partner and best friend” mask in place for months or years if they have to.
So the first time they scream at you or hit you, you don’t see an abuser. You see your best friend, your confidante, the person who brought you soup when you were sick and always laughs at your stories about your nutty coworker. You tell yourself they just had a bad day. Maybe they were tired, sick, hungry, or under a lot of stress. You know them. You’ve made a life with them. And they’re so sorry and so ashamed of what they did. This isn’t who they are.
And so things go back to back to normal for a while. Wonderful, even. This is still one of the best relationships you’ve ever been in, even counting that one incident. You go back to date nights, cozy nights in and 5-hour-long conversations that feel effortless.
And then it happens again.
And you still don’t see an abuser. You see the person who means the most to you in the whole world. You decide that maybe they’re just struggling. Maybe they have mental health issues. They’ve told you every horrible thing that’s ever happened to them as a child, and maybe it has something to do with that. But either way, they’re not an abuser. Not yet. They’re just a person who needs you more than ever.
Then things are good for a while. Then something bad happens. Then it’s good again. Then it’s bad. Good. Bad. Good. Bad. And every time it happens, it gets a little harder to get out. The time you’ve invested in the relationship goes up, and your self-esteem goes down. By the time you realize that, yes, the person you thought you knew is an Abuser with a capital A, you’re in deep. You’re a frog that stood in a pot of water so long it turned you into soup before you even noticed it was getting a little warm. But you didn’t ask for this. And you certainly didn’t know it was coming.
We have this image in our heads of what abusers must look like. We picture brawny men with low foreheads and stained white tank tops, screaming at their wives while they drink beer in front of the TV. We think they’re like wildlife, as if we could spot them with the help of a guidebook and know to stay far away from them. But they’re not. Abusers can be anyone. They can be female. They can be accomplished. They can be well-groomed. Queer. Politically far-left. Politically far-right. Artists. Athletic. Charitable. Intelligent. They can come from any walk of life, any spot on the gender spectrum, any religion, any background. It’s not the abused person’s fault for not spotting them - they can’t always be spotted. It’s the abuser’s fault for abusing.
This is so important
i used to have to see a mandatory therapist for school and for a good 6 weeks i had him convinced i had a toddler and that i was a teen mother, honestly the most alive ive ever felt. i did however get kicked out of the free therapy programm once i got made bc it was 'disrespectful' to fake having a baby
n. six weeks..