#am i to blame

[jobanon]

DO I... RUIN EVERYTHING?

[sparethedreamer]

Hi so question, if we started out as endo system and then developed into more of a traumagenic, disordered system, is that on us for even going down the path of becoming plural? Is it on me that we're struggling right now and having so many doubts and issues? If I chose not to create a tulpa/parative, would I have been in a better place, even though I did it to cope with the traumatic loss of family members? Am I to blame for my own problems? If so, am I ok?

[midnighttearsunfiltered]

Am I to Blame? A Mother’s Endless Question

Do you ever sit and wonder—What did I do wrong as a mom? What did I do wrong that now my child has to suffer from an illness, a disability, a syndrome? Why does it feel like every time I take one of my children to the doctor, they find something else? Another diagnosis. Another treatment plan. Another reminder that their childhood will never be what I once hoped for them. I have done everything…

[laz-kay]

My favourite thing about Phineas and Ferb is the fact that Phineas Flynn is so goated in his own right, is a literal child prodigy and the visionary of his generation. Yet, he’s the most oblivious fuck that’s ever existed in fiction.

Bro can take a rocket ship to space but doesn’t realise the girl across the street is holding space for him. Literally defied gravity that one time but also thought his male pet platypus had laid an egg? (Trans Perry rights I guess?) He travelled through time and wore sneakers to the science equivalent of the Oscar’s. He’s so invested in his hyperfixations and summer fun he never realises his sister’s having the worst fucking time and contributes to her anxiety every damn day.

Bro’s my hero, but Christ he’s so dumb.

[egophiliac]

somebody asked for some Lilia with Meleanor, except the ask appears to have mysteriously vanished from my inbox (???) so uhhh. this one's for you anon! sorry Mel took your ask back to the afterlife with her!

[leighsartworks216]

You keep forgetting to take your meds and it drives Zayne up the wall sometimes. He's texted you reminders, set alarms, left them out in the open, left sticky notes - and you still only sometimes remember to take them. He knows it, too. When he comes home and asks if you remembered to take your meds and that guilty look forms on your face

So it's about time he takes things into his own hands

"Love, come here," he calls from the bathroom

When you get there, you see him with your pill bottle, gently tapping one of the pills into his palm. He looks at you from the corner of his eye and you just know you're in trouble. You reach for it, but he pulls his hand away

He steps close to you, crowding into your space until you share breaths. "You need to take your medicine," he says softly

You watch in awe, throat going dry, as he shows you him placing the pill on his tongue. His hand cups your cheek, and he kisses you hard

He coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, his other hand caressing your throat and thumbing at your jaw. You let him in with a moan, meeting his tongue with yours. You can feel the pill as it shifts from his tongue into your mouth. This tiny little thing that you're careful not to choke on

He pulls away, but his thumb holds your jaw to keep your mouth open. His eyes are fixated on your mouth, on the gloss of your lips, on the strands of spit that connect you both

You hold onto his sides, fingers digging into his shirt, little by little pulling it free from his trousers. And Zayne - gods, you're going to lose your mind. He gathers his own spit. His eyes lock on yours when he closes to space and spits into your mouth, hot and sticky. His breaths are heavy when he uses his hold to close your mouth

"Swallow," he commands

It's barely enough liquid, but your desire to do as he says and please him outweighs that. You use his spit to help the glide as you force yourself to swallow it down without gagging. His thumb traces your Adam's apple, feeling it bob as you do. You open your mouth, tongue sticking out, to show him that you've done as he asked

He sighs, part relief and part arousal. "Good girl/boy," he breathes. He sucks your tongue into his mouth as he kisses you again, as what was supposed to be a quick method of getting you to take your meds became far more heated and addicting than he could have predicted

[kaipassedgo]

every day i wake up and am mad at the end of steves storyline and the full and complete lack of people who GET IT

[iwieldthesword]

I need to talk about this because it's making me feel insane.

Last week, my white leftist goyisch friends sat me, a wholeass antizionist Jew, down for a "talk" because they "needed to check in about Palestine" and make sure "our values aligned before we hung out again". They apparently needed to "suss out" where I stood on Palestinian rights, despite having had several conversations about Palestine and them being some of my closest friends. They needed to check, to search for and uncover my true values, because I had said some "disturbing things" that had made them "suspicious".

Disturbing things included:

Supporting IfNotNow which is a "liberal zionist organization" because it normalizes Jewish heritage in the Levant

Not bringing Palestine up enough, despite them also not bringing it up (this was apparently a test)

Mentioning that the Houthi's flag talks about cursing all Jews

Saying Stalin was antisemitic because of the "all the paw-grihms"

...and apparently other things they wouldn't specify, but had been tracking for months.

To clarify, I am an antizionist Jew from three generations of antizionist Jews. I have been vocal in my support of Palestinian liberation and in my condemnation both of Israel's actions and its violent founding as a state, and of zionism in many of its forms. I am a regular donor to Palestinian and Jewish NGOs and advocate for Jewish antizionism in person, at temple, and online. I have been talking about Palestinian liberation before they could point to Gaza on a map. But they needed to make sure, they needed to "suss out", they needed to check. And it's notable that the majority of moments that made them suspicious of me were times where I talked about antisemitism: not about Palestinian liberation, not about Israeli decolonization, not about anything actually relevant to Palestine. It was talking about antisemitism that made them check to see if I was a cryptozionist.

One of the most pervasive and insidious forms of antisemitism is the idea that Jews are inherently untrustworthy and suspicious. You have to constantly be on guard, track what they say and do, "suss out" the real truth. You have to keep them in line and and watch them carefully because they're liars and sneaks, and if you're not looking closely they'll return to their real values (and drag you down with them). This is where the idea of "cryptozionist" comes from and what it's directly building off of: the inherent untrustworthiness of Jews and the need to check. Because no matter how close you become you can't actually trust them, and any upstanding gentile should make sure to avoid associating with Jews before "sussing out" their real allegiances and intentions. You have to make them turn out their pockets, just in case.

I'm the first and only Jew they actually were friends with; I know because they've told me (strangely proud of it in the way white Americans are proud of that kind of thing). They've asked me questions about Judaism and fawned over how beautiful and unique it was for me to be connected to my community and culture. Pre-October 7th, one of them had even mentioned being interested in coming to services at my temple. She still has my copy of our siddur. But now she needed to "check" before she could be seen with me in public. Which is what it was: it wasn't a "you're my friend and I need to give you some feedback because you're fucking up" kind of intervention (which is normal and important to have), it was a trial. It was a last chance for me to prove to them that I'm clean-enough that they could afford to risk being seen with me in public, just in case someone noticed them fraternizing with a hypothetical Enemy and their leftism was compromised. It was a test to make sure that I behave properly when required to, that I'd play along and do what I'm told and turn out my pockets if asked (because any refusal would validate the notion of having something to hide). And above all it was an opportunity for them to reaffirm their own cleanliness by putting my imagined immorality in its place.

I did what I needed to do: I smiled. I apologized. I "didn't know that". I "appreciated the feedback". I turned out my pockets because what else could I do? They'd decided who I was and what I believed, regardless of what I said or did, so there was no point in explaining that they were wrong about me. If I had told them they were being antisemitic, it would just have been proof that they were right. Caring about antisemitism is a dogwhistle in the spaces they've chosen: it's not a real form of oppression, it's a tactic for sneaky, lying Jews to weasel out of admitting their true alliances. There was nothing I could say.

Nothing's really changed for me. I'm going to continue my activism for Palestinian liberation rooted in my culture and my faith. Antizionism is still not antisemitism. But I got a reminder that many white goyisch leftists fundamentally just don't trust Jews, and that the activist spaces they're in not only exacerbate their antisemitism in an increasingly insular echo chamber, but also allow them to finally vent their internalized bigotry in a socially-acceptable way. In my former friends' eyes, what they did was activism—disavowing a Jew (and making me feel humiliated, scared, and unclean in the process) as a cathartic stand-in for doing fucking anything for actual Palestinian liberation—but for me it was a grief that I'll be feeling for a long time: not only over losing friends I loved and trusted, but also over my sense of belonging and security in leftist spaces.

[hoshiboshimax]

he did his best please praise him

[noodles-and-tea]

also what about an inverse twins in time au where ford went back to the 60's and stan stayed in the 80's?

Oh this is super interesting

[inkskinned]

it took me 964 applications. i've been counting, but not well. i don't always add every quick-apply to the spreadsheet. this one was five rounds of interviews. saying my elevator pitch like a parrot, peppy and happy. for a long time, i didn't hear anything from them. i thought it was the same as always - they say where did we find you, seem excited, then ghost me. i had sent three follow-up emails hi, just checking in! excited for this opportunity!

i have a master's degree and over 10 years of work in the industry. i've worked 5 jobs at once. i have worked hard and i tried hard my entire life, no matter how burnt out i got or whatever else happened to me. i am the representation of the american dream.

but i'm not a good fit for an entry-level job, i guess, so i get told a lot we just don't think you're be happy. but they fill other positions internally, instead saying - well, there was another candidate who had 6 more days of experience. if i'm lucky, i get this sad little email back from the recruiter, all saying the same thing: we liked you, but we went with another option, good luck job hunting. that is - if i'm lucky, and they even communicate at all with me.

what a waste of fucking time. i've been counting interviews - i am a fucking master total of 42 fucking hours. can you fucking believe. i would have made rent if they'd fucking paid me.

and now nobody does remote, even though this is a job that for the last five years has been remote-completely. now they are paying 14 an hour for a job that used to be 33.50. now they are saying we are looking for rockstars and mean we don't give you health insurance. "we need someone motivated and a little crazy" translates to you will have one day of PTO annually. every job board filled with the same AI-generated bullshit of "our values/join our family/Make Waves With Us". they need to be constantly growing. who knows if they're genuinely hiring.

sometimes i want to write did you know i saved a life once into the cover letter. sometimes i want to put a little secret in there, a little short story about how when i was a kid i used to dream of speaking to my plants. i have the same six conversations with people and answer the same eight questions. sometimes at the end they'll throw something in there that's completely irrelevant. what is my go-to belting song (and yes, they say, there is a wrong answer). what animal would i turn into. what's the most reactive element i've had direct contact with. do i know how to lift an elephant.

964 feels like a nice number, somehow round and pleasing. sometimes i have nightmares where the spreadsheet grows arms and strangles me to death. i saw an old friend in one of these recently; he said the earth will end and you'll still be applying until you run out of breath. 964 is a lot of time to spend filling out an application on a site that doesn't load properly and just steals my information.

one time in desperation i applied for a supermarket position. just anything to make the ends meet, good lord, i'd take anything. i was rejected from it. i'm not, like, proud. i'd take anything so i can afford to live again. and meanwhile, god! our fucking president!

i can't think about it without shaking. i had to beg for help. i paid my own way through college - i have been working (under the table) since i was 12.

nine hundred and sixty-four. and finally! something! and here's the fucking thing: i had to turn it down because it's in your city. how pathetic to think that 2 months ago, i would have agreed to move out to DC, my hands in your hair. my life splashed on your sheets. how pathetic that 2 months ago, you said you wanted me. 964 fucking jobs later, and how pathetic! i can't say yes because my life is entirely different. holy shit.

it's just hell. because god fucking protect you if you have a breakup or a mental breakdown or health issues or need your meds. you can try for a year and still hear fucking nothing from the job market. i have no idea how many times i've said i give up and i still fucking kept doing it. every moment like sandpaper against a raw wound. lowering and lowering my expectations. watching my savings dwindle to nothing. thank you for submitting your application!

back into the frying pan. over and over again.

[stexnem]

Max: actually teaches baby Oscar how to swim, holds him in the water and reassures that he won’t let go of him

Charles: threw him off his yacht into the sea with “He has my monegasque genes, he will survive”

[kacievvbbbb]

Also the fact that like Nani is pressured into giving up custody for Lilo because she doesn’t have insurance and can’t afford the hospital bill and she’s coerced into signing because then the state will cover it. I’m supposed to find that a heart warming moment when the social worker is showing that she cares about Nani and Lilo? Really? How is that not just financial coercion? How is that just not a criticism of the health care industry in America (that I’m sure they didn’t mean to do on purpose)

Also it’s so blatantly obvious how the writers of this movie have no idea why Nani sings Aloha 'Oe to Lilo the night she finds out she is going to be taken away. A YouTuber named Sideways, who analyzes music in film(and has done a whole video about how Disney’s live action remakes don’t work musically years before this) explained that scene so beautifully.

How the sond Aloha 'Oe was originally written by the Queen of Hawaii for the people of Hawaii after American Colonizers forced her to surrender the Islands. How she performed it as a last goodbye for the country that was being taken away from her. And that mirrors how Lilo is now being taken away from Nani by colonial forces (even tho Cobra Bubbles does mean well and sympathizes lilo is still being given into the care of the US government) and this is her subtle goodbye to her. And it’s fucking brilliant and you can tell that that scene was written by people that fucking care and know what the fuck kind of movie they are writing. The scene is solemn and is treated as such. Nani sings it as tho it were a lullaby and a final goodbye. It’s the first time the song is sang in the movie because the writers actually understand the gravity of it.

Instead what we get in the live action is lilo first singing it to Stitch randomly while doing (I think maybe the accompanying?) Hula because why the fuck not. And then a lifeless dark scene where Nani plays the ukulele and sings to her like the fact that she had just been coerced into giving up her sister wasn’t just treated like a good and final decision. Because, why the fuck not.

[borgialamb]

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (1971) dir. by Stanley Kubrick

"I think roughly 10 years after it came out, I had a realization that I was part of something that was pretty extraordinary. You can either accept it, smile, go with it, or never talk about it again. And I decided, listen, I made the bloody movie. I put a lot of myself in that part and I'm extremely proud of it. I loved working with Stanley. And for the most part, we have a great time. So I think I'll take the road of, yep, I'm proud of it. I love it. That's it." — MALCOLM MCDOWELL

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle”

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

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