#call your therapist

[lean-mean-demon-genevieve]

So Germ made a blog post about body positivity (a couple years ago) and mentioned how her hands/breasts are parts of her body she loves most of all. But then years later she does a podcast where she talks about breast implants because she didn’t like how her boobs looked anymore…the lies come easy to her.

Ok, human to human, I’m going to say something that may surprise you: Our relationships to our bodies can change over time as we age without it being a lie. We cannot help but be impacted by messages of body shame or societal pressures as our bodies evolve in shape and/or size. This MAY have been true for G as well.

HOWEVER…this is also GenPad the Deceptacon so let’s do a Titty Truth-Telling Timeline of sorts, when Gen went from this👇🏼

To this 👇🏼

Then, in April of this year, she appeared on the Bathroom Chronicles podcast (Apple linked, see Spotify for video), and had the audacity to claim that she hadn’t told most of her close friends that she had gotten breast implants in 2021, but they were now removed. (Lol imagine having to pretend you didn’t notice them) The decision to remove them came after experiencing symptoms of fatigue when running, joint pain, inflammation, and brain fog.

If you can’t stomach the whole podcast, we know from this IG post summary that part of the decision reportedly came from turning 40 and wanting to feel sexy. Which…okay, fine. It starts to unravel when she also claims that her implants were the same size as her breasts before breastfeeding. That seems like quite a stretch of truth when you consider 👇🏼

But I don’t think she had them removed. I suspect she just had them reduced so she could run to her satisfaction again (back up to 6 miles and counting after only a sad 2-3 miles that caused concern), quiet her other heath anxieties discussed in more detail in the pod, and soothe her own regrets. Because if you compare how she looked in May 2021 prior to surgery (from a since deleted IG post) to how she looked at the KTLA appearance just days after this podcast was released…

We still have significantly more titty meat than we started with, while also not being able to attribute that to weight gain anywhere else.

So yes, while I won’t throw her under the bus for having issues with her body image, I will get angry at how much she lies in order to look like a health-conscious martyr. She is not just kindly warning others about the risks of breast implants here. Pushing the wellness narrative has potential to push more endorsements her way, so don’t mistake this for altruism.

I will get even more angry at someone with a platform who won’t just come forward and be honest about their procedures while also perpetuating unattainable standards of beauty for everyone else. Gen won’t admit to the parts of all of this that make her the most human. Meanwhile the podcast hosts practically canonized her a saint, thanked her for her “vulnerability,” and called her “so brave” for telling her story.

Brave of her to assume that no one is paying attention with a critical eye. Deception is not the kind of vulnerability you think it is, Gen. And these lies won’t make you feel any less anxious. Your therapist should have told you that by now.

*Bonus Lie* In the podcast, released on April 6th, G says that her “brain fog” disappeared immediately after explant surgery. However, in an IG story on April 5th, she had this to say:

Just focus on the lie and don’t think too much about how this privileged princess goes on so many vacations with multiple stops that she forgets the details and since she can afford to be a hypochondriac she thinks it’s some sort of condition. Ok love you, bye.

[ask-jewels-against-the-sea]

Blows you up with my mind powers

[ghouljams]

Alright!! Here's the end of the first act of the Medieval AU, in which I hit poor reader with a stick multiple times and Knight!Ghost makes it better.

TW: this handles some stuff around sexual assault/sexual trauma, virginity politics, and period typical misogyny

You’ve always thought of sex as something that will be forced on you. Dreading your marriage night has become the norm for you. Even before Ghost came into your life. Though after his entrance it came to mean so much more than just an unpleasant night. It’s losing Ghost, losing the spare hope that somehow you could be his. Because you think if it was with him it might be nice. The way he touches you, the way he takes care of you, he’s kind, terribly so. He’s good to you, he’d be good to you.

Ghost presses his lips against yours, gentle pressure you instantly crave more of. He turns your head to kiss your cheek, your jaw, to press his nose against your pulse and breathe you in. His fingers in your hair direct you as he likes, and you’re more than willing to let him. Your eyes are heavy, everything wonderfully soft and ever so slightly out of focus. You run your hands over his bare shoulders, feel the firm muscle, trail them up to feel his jaw as he kisses your neck. 

“You’re beautiful,” He whispers to you, his voice low in your ear. Your stomach clenches, your skin prickling with heat. Ghost’s hands are so gentle with you, exploratory as they run down your sides and up your stomach. His lips follow them over your chest, making you squirm and press into his touch. 

“My lady,” He presses his words into your skin. His, you think, just his for as long as he’ll have you. No one matters like him, no one holds you like him, keeps you like him. You want him to keep you. You want to be his, greedily, you want him to be yours too. It’s not a quality you’re supposed to have. You aren’t supposed to want like this. 

You aren’t supposed to dig your fingers into his shoulders, not supposed to let your legs fall open when he nudges his knee between them. “Just like that Princess,” He tells you, his voice raspy in a way that makes heat bloom over your cheeks, “spread your legs so everyone can see what a selfish little whore you are.”

Your head is jerked to look at the crowd of shadows gathered around you, their eyes so wide and watchful you don’t know how you didn’t feel them raking over your exposed skin before. You feel panic well in your chest, grabbing the sheets quickly to try and cover yourself. You scramble away from Ghost and he lets you, hardly bothered by your rapid breaths or the tears quickly gathering in your eyes. 

“They already think you’re ruined,” He doesn’t sound like Ghost, voice cruel and taunting, “All because you value a knight over the only thing you’re good for.” His eyes aren’t Ghost’s, the shifting and changing shape and color, his face flickering through your previous suitors. “He won’t want you anyway once you’re sold, he doesn’t even want you now,” His hand grabs your cheeks between rough fingers and you push at his face- their many faces- you don’t like this, you don’t like this, you don’t- “Are you really so stupid as to think he’d protect you from your husband. This is your duty princess, and his is not to interfere.” Their hands push between your legs.

Your sobs shake you awake, heaving, trembling things. You scorn propriety and wail. Let the whole castle hear you, you don’t care. You’re a horrible princess, a terrible, selfish, greedy thing that hardly deserves the title. You know all of this, and yet you still sob because you want Ghost. You want your knight, you want the man that’s slowly leading you to ruin. The man that’s planted an altar of thorns around your heart and laid his kindness upon it like a lamb to slaughter. You want him to hold you and tell you it was all lies. That he wants you like you want him.

You sob, feel the fat tears roll down your cheeks and fall on your blankets. You sob, feel it scratch your throat raw, your chest barely expanding enough to compensate for the despair that rattles out of you. One of your nightly guards comes into the room to check on you and you scream at him. Force the sound out of you like a banshee until it rips your vocal cords. You hope it shreds them. 

What a picture you’d make then. 

What a picture you must make now. 

The guard leaves in a hurry, apparently having deemed you safe from external threats, but mad enough not to stick around. It feels good to scream. You do it again, and again, curling in on yourself as you clutch your pain to your chest. The world can fall away like this, leave you to your self infliction. Who cares. It’s all bullshit anyway.

"How long has she been like this?" The voice is furious, unfamiliar. You’ve never heard anyone that mad in your life. You can barely hear the reply over your hiccuping sobs. You don’t want people in your room, you don’t want them to see you like this. Not when you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. Some part of you is still clinging to decorum even now. How well trained you are.

“Get out!” You shout, reach behind you to grab a pillow to throw blindly at the intruder.

Big warm hands grab you and pull you from your misery, wild brown eyes dart over you searching for injury. Ghost pushes your hair from your face, and you scream at him the same as you screamed at your night guard. 

He’s not wearing his mask, in the back of your mind you wonder if he came here like that. He pulls you against his chest, presses your face to his shoulder to stifle your screaming. His frame curls over you, shielding you from the world you were trying to drown out. You can feel the rapid expanding and contracting of his chest, his breath quick, as he drops his head to your shoulder. You wonder if he ran here.

“I’m sorry I was late,” He tells you, and you fall apart again.

The way you shake and curl up in his arms, guarding yourself against whatever hurts you, breaks his heart. His poor love. Ghost wraps his arm more tightly around your shoulders, holds the back of your head as he turns to kiss your temple. “You’re alright,” He whispers, “I have you, you’re safe.” Your sobs feel like a full body effort. Each one wracks your chest and forces the air from your lungs. He can feel your tears soaking through his shirt. God, you- you’re safe. You’re safe.

He repeats it to himself, presses his lips to your cheek, your shoulder, keeps you held as tightly as he dares. He’d seen the maids running from your room for the court physician, and assumed the worst. Assumed you’d been screaming due to some grave injury, that he’d find you bloody, and- But these were just tears, anyone should have been able to help you through your tears. How long had you been screaming alone? How long had you been left to deal with your pain while others whispered about sedation?

Ghost feels his anger bubbling again, feels the hot licks of fury against his ribs as your sobs settle into gentle hiccups. You don’t need his anger right now, but it will come. Later. Now he does his best to keep his voice from shaking, to keep it gentle for you.

“Tell me what happened.” So that he can take his revenge on whatever hurt you.

Your breath shudders. “You let them touch me,” you sob, your hands desperate where they hold onto his shirt. Ghost’s heart stops, he feels his grip on you tighten more than wills it. 

“Never,” He growls, forcing himself to look at the remaining staff in your room, “No one is coming near you.” It’s a threat, he means it as a threat. He’s never felt more dangerous than he does in this moment. Never felt more sure of his own deadly precision. At least your court lady is smart enough to usher the rest of the nervous onlookers out of the room. “Who touched you?” He watches the door shut tight, tries to keep the anger out of his voice. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to touch what was his?

“I-” You hesitate as Ghost slides his thumb against your tear stained cheek, “I want to be selfish.” Your poor hoarse voice, he’s almost willing to let you change the subject when you sound like that. Screamed yourself raw, and they all let you. 

“Who touched you princess?” He asks again.

“No one,” Your voice raises and breaks without your willing it to. 

“No one,” Ghost repeats, feeling his shoulders drop with relief. 

“What would you do if they did?” You ask him, and he knows exactly what he’d do, “Nothing.” Ghost stills. “You’ll throw me to my wedding night the same as the rest. Give me up as is your duty and ask me to forget every time you’ve touched me. How can you ask me to forget that, when every time I touch you I ache for the next time you’ll let me close? How can you hold me like this before you throw me to the wolves?”

Blood rushes in Ghost’s ears, his breaths short as he listens to you swallow your heart. No. He’s not so noble as to give you up like that. He imagines it, how chivalrous he’ll be letting you go. But he knows. He’s not a noble man, not kind, not half as honorable as he pretends to be. He can’t leave you in anyone else’s hands. No one else can have you, no one deserves you. Not when they’ll let you scream yourself hoarse. Not when their first thought is to sedate you in your grief. No. He knows.

He’d kill your husband before he ever reached your wedding bed.

He tips your head back and kisses you. You all but melt against him, your soft lips wet with your tears, sweet and salty. And warm. You’re so warm. How could he ever delude himself into thinking he could give you up? You’re right. You slide your lips against his with a sigh, and all he can do is ache for the next gentle kiss you give him.

[tea-time-terrier]

[cliveguy]

though honestly when people say "get therapy" they're not suggesting therapy, they're telling you to go be mentally ill somewhere else lol. if someone is struggling mentally in 2023 and not in therapy there's a pretty big chance that there's a reason for it beyond not considering it. and also most people who get therapy are still going to act mentally ill at times. because surprisingly a single session isn't enough to make someone act "normal"

[larrythefloridaman]

fankids are funny. anyway her name is Present

[cemeterything]

Please tell me you've written fitzier fanfic because you seem like you have good takes

i have not because while i may have good takes i do NOT have good taste. trust me when i tell you that you do not want to read what i'd write if i had more self confidence.

[sirenaex]

Imagine if Yuu made a spotify playlist for each twisted wonderland character with songs on it that called them out on their mental illness and trauma.

Like they could have idia set it up so that it'll automatically start playing on speakers in Ramshackle when said person enters.

Imagine Vil walks into ramshackle and 'Brand New City' by Mitski or 'Young and beautiful' by Lana Del Rey just starts blasting through Bluetooth speakers.

That shit would genuinely be so fucking funny while also being Yuu's half-assed attempt at an overblot prevention measure.

Like the whole thing is definitely petty revenge for all the bullshit they've put Yuu through but it's also Yuu's genuine attempt to get them all to realize they aren't mentally stable and they need to get help.

[nowritingonthewall]

I’m just begging you: Don’t make us go there again.

[cinamun]

I'm still distracted by @simandy's new hair...

[bittsandpieces]

-

[gxlden-angels]

do you have any thoughts on the story of abraham and isaac? my parents talk about it and praise abraham for being willing to kill his son which..... scares me to say the least, and i'd love to hear your perspective as someone who seems more well-adjusted

Where I am now, it disgusts me more than anything. The interpretation of "I'm willing to sacrifice your life if I was told to" feels like the step before "I put you into this world and I can take you out of it." It's entitlement to a child, who is an independent individual, just because they are dependent on you for survival. I prefer the interpretation of understanding the actions you're taking and the reasons why (like how there's multiple religions that don't eat pork because it was so unsafe to eat at the time), especially if it's at someone else's expense.

Where I was in the thick of it all, it gave me morbid comfort that scares me now. I had fantasies of being a martyr for the church and the idea of being the next Isaac was just so appealing. Being a hand-selected sacrifice chosen by the Good Lord Himself? Sign me the fuck up, babey!

I think if I admitted that to my family, they'd be horrified.

It's another one of those stories or beliefs where I think the majority of christians just regurgitate what they've heard. It's a point of pride and devotion, but there's no personal reflection or cross-cultural awareness of it. Lean not unto your own understanding and whatnot. It's the potential that scares me the most, like the Quiverfull movement with the Duggars or Turpins. I'm sure there's stories now, but I can't remember them off the top of my head

(Also I will be telling my therapist someone on Tumblr called me "more well-adjusted" thank you anon)

[eclecticopposition]

seeing personality disorder discussion on the dashboard. the impulse to share all the self-therapy books and tools we have has never been stronger

[sepulchritude]

Wow people really are such monstrous cunts about BPD huh? Like I knew that but holy shit

[jellyluvr]

Me because evan didn't share his papa John story

He could rant to me all day honestly..

[ickypuppi3]

there’s something about the events leading up to billy being flayed that i can’t stop thinking about

like you’ve got this 17 year old who gets sent out to look for his little sister and he winds up at a much older woman’s house where he essentially has to flirt with her to get the information he needs and she reciprocates, all while knowing he’s underage

then the whole situation at the byers happens and no one sees it the way billy does, no one except for him seems to realise that it’s fucking weird for steve to be in the middle of nowhere with a group of kids while lying about it, no one believes billy and he still comes out worse in the end with him being even more isolated than he already was

and then you move onto season 3 and you have the first episode where a newly 18 year old billy is introduced by being sexualised and objectified by a group of women way older than him, karen included, and it’s made obvious that they had to have learnt his work schedule by the way they talk and that they do this often which.. yeah

then billy goes up to karen and she reciprocates his flirting once again and agrees to meet up with him later with the full intention of having sex with him out at some motel somewhere, despite knowing his age

and it’s so wild to me that all of this predatory behaviour is what actually lead to billy crashing his car - he was literally on his way to see karen when it happened, that’s the only reason he was ever there - and that all of this grooming is essentially what lead to billy being attacked in such a brutal way that is so reminiscent of sa

then there’s the scene after he gets dragged to the basement where he manages to call 911 and he doesn’t answer when asked what his emergency is because he doesn’t know what to say/doesn’t think he’ll even be believed which is all too common among victims

and then you circle back to the night at the byers, the night where billy’s seen as irrational for thinking anything’s off, where he ends up being the person ‘in the wrong’ and where all of that happened right after karen started being predatory towards him and the first time he was (unknowingly) in a situation relating to the upside down

i have a lot of thoughts

something about the chain of events leading up to billy being flayed, about how everything is so interconnected and how that works when you’re looking at it in this specific way

something about grooming, something about victims not being believed, something about billy in particular never being believed and people blaming things on how he acts rather than seeing that the way he acts is a direct result of things that have happened to him

something about how he’s immediately isolated after the fight at the byers, something about how isolated he is after he’s attacked, the way his demeanour changes when he leaves karen’s house, how his behaviour seems to change after the byers, and how his behaviour changes completely once he’s attacked

how all of it fits this allegory, right from the start