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Their fallout is giving 'dog eats dog', which is an expression I see alot in Chinese drama where I think it's written as 狗咬狗.

Two scumbags rushing to throw the other under the bus.

Hey just a quick check in- now that musk is like severely imploding on trump and their severed ties

Yall won't forget this part right?

Yall won't forget he's still a massive scumbag right? That he's still a nazi right? That won't get lost in translation right???

(I don't THINK it'll get forgotten but I really want to remind people that just because Musk is now bashing trump for all the shit we've known about him for awhile that we don't forget he was complicit. If anything his bashing and airing out trumps laundry makes it worse, because he KNEW all that and still worked with him.)

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Lemme show this to my mum, a mom of three. Will return with results.

Beyblade heavyweight division

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Wanting is good. Necessary even. At least when I want, I feel. And feeling is good too. When I feel, I live. Even for a moment.

I want to feel. I want to live.

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Sorry if that sounded like I was scolding you

ultimately the truth about frankenstein is that we are all grotesque amalgamations of the best and worst parts of everyone who came before us. and sometimes the people who are supposed to love us because of and in spite of this will not. and we can kill them with hammers for that. and i think that’s beautiful

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Reblogging just so I can find it in my posts for reference

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

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I love that sometimes we collectively forget that frankestein was the scientist/doctor's name, not the monster he made.

ultimately the truth about frankenstein is that we are all grotesque amalgamations of the best and worst parts of everyone who came before us. and sometimes the people who are supposed to love us because of and in spite of this will not. and we can kill them with hammers for that. and i think that’s beautiful

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My life literally revolves around the same four walls. Everyday.

sorry for not keeping in touch,i have literally nothing to say.

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My thoughts tend to sound like a piece of writing or an almost poem when I write them down. This is interesting to me because I don't think in words, so I'm just interpreting the little motion picture playing behind my eyelids, and that's what comes out.

It's endearing that my brain subconsciously views the thoughts it directs into screenplays as works of art deserving of a certain style of writing.

I am art. Therefore, I produce art. My brain and I may not agree on the intensity of the nostalgia setting, but we both think it's beautiful all the same.

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'Watching a drama due to constant exposure to GIFS of two assholes in love' was not on my 2025 bingo card, but has become a core part of my fandom experience.

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I think romanticising your life is about enjoying the little everyday things. Kinda like looking at life through the eyes of a child. Everything is cool and new and amazing, and you can't wait to learn about it. Or destroy it. Whatever works.

I think social media has made it out to be some sort of performance for a hypothetical audience where you need to fit a predetermined aesthetic. And that's......so unhealthy.

Why would you think that performing for an unknown and unseen audience would somehow make your life feel brighter? There is no test subject that behaves naturally once it knows it's being watched.

How long before you forget who you really are? How long before you become a dance monkey?

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If I wanted, I could start living tomorrow, but I'd much rather wither away in my bed thinking up fantasies I could never have the energy to chase.

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Everyday I find I have to consciously remind myself I am worth the effort and that there is someone out there for me.

But boy if that doesn't test my will. Every. Single. Time. The desire to self sabotage. To prove myself wrong. As if proving myself wrong will vindicate my experiences somehow.

The loops I imagine my brain goes through to make it make sense must be horrifyingly steep.

But I shall keep consciously reminding myself I am worthy of the love I give so freely. Because one day, knowing this fact will become similar to breathing. Second nature. The obvious choice. And maybe then I'll find my person.

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