i feel for you bitches who can’t maladaptive daydream. Like how does it feel to fan girl normally? I just be living life with my man and our 2 dogs, granted it’s all in my head but who cares 🤣🤣🤣
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yknow there’s so much bad shit out there in the world and so much of it is aimed at people like me and i spend so much of my time trying to understand it and document it and make sense of it but sometimes. sometimes i hear someone singing a duet with their pre-t voice and the harmonies are breathtaking and i just want to open my bedroom window and scream to the cars driving by that I LOVE US I LOVE US GOD I FUCKING LOVE US
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spiders are fucking foul and i hate them and i don’t care about the stupid poem they’re dead on sight if they enter my fucking house
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i know nothing at all about tumblr live but i accidentally just clicked an icon on the app and felt like i fell into another dimension. the idea of anything happening on this site “live” feels antithetical?? we don’t exist in real time we’re reblogging columbo and posts from 2013???
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april 28
now that i have caught your attention with the largeness of my deltoids. april 28. 6:30 and 8:30 pm est. my senior dance showcase (livestream link forthcoming). it will have taiko and spoken word and modern dance and jeff the livestream guy at the helm, if he likes me. it will be the best thing i have ever made. save the date
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most ppl won’t pay attention, but it’s really important for us to keep in mind that Evan Rachel Wood & Amber Heard are both bisexual and that will absolutely affect what “accusations” and vile shit gets said about and to them. it’s the ingrained norm to treat bisexuals like they’re sneaky and untrustworthy and no one gives it a second thought. biphobia is playing a huge role in this. and you should be paying attention to that.
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Can we talk about how the boys have the sweetest, most pure, tender love for each other and how special it is that they hold that same kind of love for us and encourage us to harbor that energy through our everyday lives
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I’ve already attached this to a re-blog, but it feels like something that I want to post as a standalone as well. Sometimes I scream into the tumblr void about shit. Thanks to a gifted copy of The Body Keeps the Score I’m doing more DIY therapy work and processing some of my thoughts through the interwebs. So here’s a brain thing.
🎶Let’s talk about projection baby, let’s talk about you and me!!🎶 All joking aside, so many of us who deal with CPTSD use fictional works to process our trauma. We are outsourcing emotions and memories that we, for whatever reason, struggle to deal with unless there is some remove from the immediacy of them. We seek to find ourselves in characters, parallels in stories and situations for our own experiences. We live their struggles and triumphs as our own and so find catharsis within them. Aziraphale as a character is a particularly good example of this. He’s doing the thing so many of us who are trying to convince everyone else and ourselves that “we’re FINE, thank you!” do. He isn’t really processing his shit. He’s putting it on a third party to release some pressure before he completely loses it. And in so doing, us the audience, have gained a character that we both empathize and sympathize with, and in turn, use to work through much of our own trauma. I honestly think that’s why so many of us are waiting for S3 with bated breath. We need Az to figure it out. We need them both to heal. To defeat the odds. To find happiness. We’re all waiting for that because we need to believe that it’s something we can have too. If this Angel who foists 6 millennia of grief and rage and maddening questions about the “why” of everything off into an entire bookshop’s worth of stories and characters, if he can figure it out…surely we can too. Surely there is hope for us buried somewhere in the stacks. Surely there is some understanding that can be found, some catharsis or healing within the lines of these narratives. So we’re all holding our breath, our hope and our hearts, in our hands, waiting to finish the story, and in so doing, complete some part of ourselves. Finally framing those cracks where the light comes in, into something beautiful.
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Thinking about Scar standing before Lex and removing his mask to show himself to her. Even when he bared his mandibles and roared in her face, she didn’t flinch in fear or recoil in disgust. Man really didn’t have to do all that, but he did. With the exception of a damaged one, you know a yautja is serious when the mask comes off. Not only did he blood the woman, he let her see him. She earned that right after fighting alongside him. So much reverence for her in his gaze alone. It was such an intimate exchange between the two, only to be so rudely interrupted…
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y’all. we’re literally living through the Zona renaissance. like actually.
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