thesand-snakes - Tumblr blog

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ewan mitchell and phia saban referencing the last kingdom ⚔️destiny is all! ✨

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Captain America: Brave New World Cast Panel at SDCC - July 27, 2024

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2x01 I 2x08 I 3x07

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+Bonus

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The true love story of season 3 was Colin and Penelope.

No, it wasn't.

The true love story was Eloise and Penelope.

No, it wasn't.

The true redemption was Cressida's.

No, it wasn't.

The true redemption was Penelope's.

No, it wasn't.

The true redemption and love story was the Featherington girls.

Watching Portia learn to believe in love just by watching Polin. Watching Phillipa being protective of Penelope. Watching Prudence being proud of Penelope. Their redemption and transformation from the careless mom and mean sisters to loving, supportive and proud family was the most perfect story this season has offered in all possible ways.

"Time for us to do better."

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Portia and Penelope: mother and daughter.

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penelope: i'll give you an annulment and free you from this marriage

colin:

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It’s the sheer happiness in her eyes for her brother and best friend followed by the sudden drop of emotions into that familiar pit of utter loneliness and sadness and the feeling that everyone around her is finding people they love and find comfort in but when she looks around her she can’t find that person for herself and she can’t figure out how to find that person for herself because she doesn’t even know herself right now and how the hell can she look for someone else when she’s still searching for herself?

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honestly, shout out to portia featherington, who didn't believe in love for herself and who had a dreadful husband, and who got a love match for all three of her daughters to safe, kind men

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Psych 1x02

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Benedict kissing Colin and Colin just being there accepting it with no reaction tells me that this happens more often than shown, and I can just imagine Anthony and Benedict just kissing their little brother incessantly just to annoy him and Colin just sitting there not being able to do anything but accept it makes my heart melt

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I can’t get over how eagerly Philipa embraces being a true big sister to Penelope as soon as she’s basically given permission to be.

She’s not jealous of the attention their Mama gives Penelope during the engagement era, she looks worried for Pen when the Queen reveals her as Lady Whistledown at their ball and she absolutely releases those butterflies right then to distract everyone and give Penelope some breathing room.

Then there’s the final scene, where she basically says she hopes her daughter turns out just like her little sister? My heart melted.

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tell me this isn't them to a tee

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I love how the hand holding scenes in each season are a perfect reflection of each couple's story. I realize that's precisely the point but it's still beautiful to see.

Daphne and Simon just sort of slowly come together until Daphne tentatively, tenderly moves her hand into his and he lets her. She chips away at his wall a little more and he allows it, even participates in it, like he knows it's what he needs.

With Kate and Anthony we don't actually get the holding part. Their story is all about wanting but not having, reaching but not meeting. It's painful to watch.

And with Colin and Penelope, we see them bump and fumble their way together until they both commit to it with equal strength and certainty, holding each other steady. A shaky start that leads to perfect harmony.

I'm sorry, but this is visual storytelling at its finest.

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maybe season 3 was about Portia’s love story — the love she has for her daughters and how they all found love/men who adored them in spite of everything.

i swear, the Featherington ladies saved season 3 for me. if you’d told me i’d end up falling in love with them after watching season one, i would’ve said bullshit.

[source: X]

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There's a photo that exists that I had forgotten about. I blocked it from my memory for twelve years. And then in February, Facebook regurgitated it and threw it at me, and I have not been able to stop being angry about it.

I hate that fucking photo. I hate it because I am so clearly fucking uncomfortable, I look like I want to crawl out of my own skin, and I remember everyone laughing when it was taken. He never took no for an answer when it came from me. Never listened when I said stop. The photo is fucking proof. And I hate it because the person who took it saw so little wrong with what was happening, she not only took that photo while giggling up a storm, she posted it and tagged me in it.

I removed the tag. But the photo still exists.

And if I ask why she did it now, I'm "dredging up the past," and "why didn't you say anything back then?"

I DID!

But my discomfort was and is a joke to them. I am a joke. And when I begged for help to make him stop, because he actually respected the two of them enough to listen, I was told I needed to stop reacting to the harassment.

"He only does it to get a reaction from you. If you stop reacting, he'll leave you alone."

Because it was MY fault. Everything was always my fault. Is my fault.

And when we got home from that trip and I climbed into my shower and scrubbed my skin raw so that I could erase the memory, and then adamantly refused to hang out with him ever again, I was the asshole. I was breaking up the friend group. Again. Because when people hurt me, it doesn't matter. It's not important enough to bother anyone else.

"Well, he's never done anything like that to me."

Great. So fucking thrilled for you. But he did do it to me, and he's a vile little man, and I don't believe in Hell anymore, so I can't say I hope he goes there, but I can say I hope he fucking ROTS.

But that's not how anyone else saw it. I mean, clearly I deserved the harassment, right? Because I was too weak to stand up for myself? So why should anyone else, right? And how dare I ask for help, anyway! Don't I know that asking people to "white knight" for me is fucking insane?!

I'm tired. I haven't slept in like three days. I want to scream or cry or something, but no one wants to hear that, and even if they did, I don't want to inconvenience anyone.

So I'll swallow it until my next therapy session, where my therapist will AGAIN tell me I REALLY need to start talking to people in my life again, and stop bottling shit up, and I'll AGAIN tell him that it's not that fucking simple. That I used to try, that I spent years trying, and being made to feel like a fucking inconvenience for wanting to talk. That I was raised being told by both friends and family that I'm too sensitive and I need to get my emotions in check and grow up. That my tears brought someone I thought was my friend fucking JOY for a year, and that now I can't let myself cry even when I'm alone. That I'm aware that it's stunted me. That swallowing those emotions and pushing them down and remaining stone faced has kept me from actually learning how to process them. That I understand that the bottling them up and feeling suppressed and depressed and so fucking alone led me to drinking too much and making stupid fucking mistakes and becoming the most annoying person anyone has ever known. And that, fuck, according to 80% of the people I have ever cared about, I was already, at least, most of the way there, so that just made it worse. And that it's why I'm even more alone than I was before. And fuck, I was so alone before.

That I'm not worth the time it takes to read this post.

That I know these things. And I can't unknow them.

And I have tried really, really fucking hard to be better. I stopped drinking earlier this year, but now my sleep schedule is fucked and insomnia is awful, and that's made it worse and it's a really fucking annoying cycle that I can't break. And that when I try to explain this cycle to people, they look at me like I'm an idiot and tell me to just step out of it like I'm not in a fucking whirlpool that's pulling me down and slowly drowning me.

And that picture...that fucking picture still exists. And it's eating me alive.

And I want it gone. Burned. Destroyed. Erased from the internet. But I also want it printed, and stored somewhere secure where I don't have to look at it. Because it's proof. It's proof that when I say that even when I ask for help, I don't get it, that when I fucking BEG for someone to take my fucking side for once, it doesn't happen. It's proof that all the times I've been told I'm "overdramatic" and that if I just asked for help instead of "just expecting it," maybe someone would help me. It's PROOF that that was never the fucking case.

It's proof that I'm worth even less than I make myself out to be.

And the worst part is, if either of the two people who were laughing while it was taken had been in my shoes, in that situation, I would have killed him. I could have killed him. I would have reached across the aisle and pulled them out of that situation before it ever got that far. I sure as fuck never would have taken a photo.

But because it was me...