mood: when lady gaga rips the knife out of her thigh
𩵠avery cochrane š©µ
hello vonnie
Show & Tell
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Kiana Khansmith
we're not kids anymore.
NASA

let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Monterey Bay Aquarium

ā
sheepfilms

izzy's playlists!
ojovivo
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@thewordaffair
mood: when lady gaga rips the knife out of her thigh

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For yesterdayās @guardian review
āIn a good bookroom you feel in some mysterious way that you are absorbing the wisdom contained in all the books through your skin, without even opening them.ā Mark Twain
this librairie ancienne and this is paris!
The inability to manage intense feelings may trigger a change in self-state from one prevailing mood to another. Depersonalization, derealization, amnesia and identity confusion can all be thought of as efforts at self-regulation when affect regulation fails. Each psychological adaptation changes the ability of the person to tolerate a particular emotion, such as feeling threatened. As a last alternative for an overwhelmed mind to escape from fear when there is no escape, a person may unconsciously adapt by believing, incorrectly, that they are somebody else. Becoming aware of this kind of fear is terrifying. Therein lies one of the central problems in treatment for a person with a dissociative disorder: āHow do I learn to approach things I fear when to understand that I am afraid is itself frightening?ā Skillful clinical approaches are required to help build confidence in a personās ability to tolerate their feelings, learn, and grow as a person.
Most days I wish I never met you because then I could sleep at night and I wouldn't have to walk around with the knowledge there was someone like you out there.

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Itās INSANE to me how controversial romance novels are. Romance novels. Like, being openly a fan of them immediately opens you up to people constantly coming at you like ābut donāt you think itās ~limiting- and ~juvenile~ to have a genre of books with happy endings for women?ā
Like.
No?
Why is it such a big deal to want to read stories where women have sex and then donāt die at the end? Jesus Christ.
Why is the concept of female characters being happy seen as less creative than female characters suffering? (Trust me, creating a world where women win in the end takes a lot more creativity and artistic vision lmfao)
Anyway, literary bros will pry my romance novels with their happy endings from my cold dead fingers.
Or die in the very beginning of the book. But no one calls out James Patterson for writing another formulaic thriller in which a woman is horrifically killed after getting laid and then some man solves her murder. Every. Damn. Time.
But hey, those romance novels where women get happy endings are so limiting, eh?
Real talk: realizing how common it is for female characters to be punished for on-the-page sex with death was a big part of my embracing the romance genre. Once I noticed it I couldnāt unnotice it. Itās everywhere. A woman having sex in literature or non-romance genre fiction is the literary equivalent of a red shirt on Star Trek.
Itās not just the sex thing, though thatās a key element. Itās that, in romance novels, the heroine gets to be cared for the way she normally would care for everyone else. Itās wish fulfillment in that her romantic partner will do emotional labor, spend a great deal of time thinking about her, or sacrifice his desires or fortune or reputation to be with her, or spend days nursing her back to health, or risking his life to save hers. In romance novels, youāll find men taking care of children, talking about their feelings, putting effort into their appearanceāeven if they are adorably bad at it. Watch how many romance novel protagonists fall in love with a man who happens to be rich or handsome, but she didnāt give in until his behavior changed and he starts mentoring her, or providing for her, or being gentle toward her, nourishing her, listening to her, appreciating her⦠I suspect romance novels are looked down upon not for being juvenile formulaic ābeach readsā but because they paint a fantasy world that leaves men feeling uncomfortable or even emasculated. But whether youāre a Midwest housewife or a big city CEO, women who read romance novels just want to read about men loving women the way women are expected love everyone elseāwith a nurturing and protective form of unswerving loyalty. Great sex they donāt have to die for is also a huge bonus, but the *romance* part of the novel is genuinely more about the woman being appreciated (for her beauty or spunk or intelligence at first, and then for all of her by the end).
āwomen who read romance novels just want to read about men loving women the way women are expected to love everyone elseāwith a nurturing and protective form of unswerving loyalty.ā
THANK YOU.
According to the website smartbitchestrashybooks, which analyzes romance novels to a great degree, one common element of the average romance novel is what they call the grovel.Ā That is, thereās a turning point near the climax of the book where the leading man says, in effect, āI hurt you.Ā I had my reasons, but they donāt make it right.Ā I am devastated that I hurt you, and I will do whatever it takes to make it okay again.Ā Leaving you is completely on the table even though I find the prospect horrific.ā
And thatās a very important fantasy.Ā To have your feelings, your pain, be made so absolutely central to the narrative, to someone elseās world.Ā You could call it a power fantasy, but I donāt think thatās exactly right.Ā Itās a significance fantasy.Ā A romance story is a story in which the woman is the most significant damn thing in the book.
And when you think of it like that, you realize why some people are really, really threatened by it.
I dislike most romance novels, simply because Iām not a fan of formulaic fiction, no matter the genre. If I want the comfort of a book I can predict the plot of that easily Iāll just reread one of my faves that I know well.
BUT! Romance novels, in all their glory and shame are incredibly important for ask reasons mentioned above. If someone truly has a problem with them the answer is quite simple - start making healthy, adult relationships that value the female characters as much as the males a common, standard thing in all genres. Then they wonāt have to be segregated off as their own genre and can simply be.
WIG??
God I really needed to see this right now.
my singing voice is good for showers and mornings in the kitchen and drunken nights and lullabies for babies who need sleep and im okay with this
i think itās silly to be ashamed of your art because itās not in a museum and of your voice because itās not selling out stadiums. there will always be people who enjoy and appreciate what you can do.
Idk why but this hit me really hard and Iāve been staring at it for a couple minutes.
Hey I made some conceptual playlists
Iāve been asking if anyoneās interested in me sharing some music so Iāve put together some short playlists here we go
Pushing drunk friends around in a stolen shopping cart at 5amĀ - Exactly what it sounds like. Mostly indie rock, some electronic 80ā²s pop Summer morning but someone just got murderedĀ - A lil bit of everything to get that misty early morning mood with vintage someone-got-stabbed-in-the-library-vibes Journeys of weeping willows and dancing faeĀ - Symphonic and instrumental music for all ur forest walks and faerie ballrooms On a train and your wife just left youĀ - If youāre ever on a train and your wife just left you this is the playlist for you, also mostly cozy indie rock and some folk Neon palm tree emojiĀ - Anything that makes you feel like youāre floating down a neon lit cali road (in my opinion idk). Itās got everything from Frank Ocean to alt-J heck yeah ColdĀ - Lots of ambient, noisy and experimental music which hopefully brings you to a cold snowy landscape but who knows Warmth - A mirror of the cold playlist, cause Iām extra like that
it can be tempting to live your life like a prequel. to live as if youāre setting up your own story.and once you lose the weight, once you have the money, once you graduate school, once youāre in a real relationship, once, once, once. then finally, youāll begin to live, and everything you do up until that point is some kind of half-life, some unimportant foreword you can skip. donāt do this. inhabit your life completely. sink fully into the wealth of your existence. the power to manifest is in the fearless owning of who you are, so that you can shape where youāre going.

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āHow strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldnāt they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?ā
ā Don DeLillo (via theunquotables)
Disney plus is literally a capsule filled with everything I watched as a kid and Iām feeling really nostalgic. I thoroughly enjoyed the live action lady and the tramp, sorta the perfect amount of wholesomeness I needed during a very grey and gloomy week. Bella notte will forever be one of my favourite Disney tracks so it was nice to hear another rendition of it.
give a man a guitar and heāll play for a day, teach a man guitar and today is gonna be the day that theyāre gonna throw it back to you
I swear to God I am so tired of this meme. You guys need to leave Wonderwall alone, seriously by now you shouldāve somehow realized what you gotta do
i donāt fucking believe this. i donāt believe that anybody feels the way i do about you now
āSomeday. Thatās a dangerous word. Itās really just a code for never.ā
ā Knight and Day (via amortizing)
Alexandra Elle, Words From a Wanderer

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Every Adult In āHarry Potterā Let Us Down At Some Point And Thatās Important a 900 page dissertation by me
And that includes Joanne Kathleen Rowling a tear stained afterword by me
Hagrid Is The Exception a rebuttal by me
The Time Hagrid Told Voldemort How to Take Out Something Protecting an Object that Grants Immortality When He Was Drunk and Other Well-Meaning Fuck Ups a lengthy chapter
Youāre Absolutely Right a retraction
How dare you assume Molly Weasley has done anything wrong ever
That Time Molly Yelled At The Twins And Ron For Saving Harry From Abuse And Starvation, Thus Likely Communicating To The Abused Kid In Her Presence That His Welfare Was Less Important Than Not Borrowing The Car, That Time Molly Was Utterly Condescending About How Harry Is A Child And Doesnāt Deserve To Know Anything In A Way That Probably Heightened His Determination To Prove Otherwise, That Time Molly Said The Twins Put Together Arenāt As Good As Any Of Their Brothers Over OWL Results That They Worked Hard On And Were Proud Of, That Time Molly Forcibly Cut Her Adult Sonās Hair Right Before His Wedding, That Time Molly Spent A Year Being Mean And Rejectful Toward Her Sonās Fiancee, That Time Molly Sent Hermione A DeliberateĀ āFuck Youā Present For Easter Because She Believed A False Story Written In Witch WeeklyĀ Without Making Any Attempt To Ask The People Actually Involved, Those Times She Made Her Youngest Sonās Christmas Sweaters His Least Favorite Color, And Every Time She Belittled Her Husbandās Hobby, The Twinsā Interests, And Billās Appearance Because She Couldnāt Be Bothered To Understand Or Value Or Even Be Kind About ThemĀ a detailed reminder that no oneās perfect and sometimes what one person doesnāt mind or see hits another person hard
Florean Fortescue Just Wanted To Sell Some Ice Cream And Help Harry With His Homework He Is The Only Adult Who Didnāt Mess Up Until Getting Killed By Voldemort, RIPĀ an increasingly strident addendum by me
OK Youāre Absolutely Right Florean Fortescue Was In Fact Perfect As Far As Iām AwareĀ a concession by me
Charlie Weasley Just Wanted To Play With Dragons a fond reminder by me
If There Were Zero Expectations For Lockhart From The Start, Did He Technically Let Us Down? An inquiry
Youāre Technically Correct, You Canāt Be Let Fown If Youāre Already On The Ground an amused afterword
Fluffy is an Adult Dog a thrilling side note
The Time I Thought of McGonagall As The Exception But Then I Feared One Of You Would Reblog To List All The Times She Actually Fucked Up, a terrified continuation by me.
a letter to my savior.
yandere! reader x haruka nanase.
Dear Haruka,
Your eyes put the ocean to shame.
The first time I gazed into your eyes was like walking through a suffocatingly dark cave. Every heartbeat, every step, every breath was captured by those cavernous walls, forever lost in its depths. They created a hauntingly eerie sonata, a song which resonated through the cave and plagued my mind. My fears stirred from their slumber and danced to that sweet harmony, taking me with them.Ā
Help me. Your eyes felt like cave walls closing in.
The second time I gazed into your eyes was like staring at a blank sheet of paper. Nerves rattled in trepidation, filling my mind with doubt and despair. Thoughts swam through in my head, mocking me with that which I cannot do, with that which Iām afraid to do. Iād cursed myself and clutch the eraser knowing that whatever I mar the paper with will be a mistake.Ā
Help me. Your eyes felt like the dread of the unknown.
The third time I gazed into your eyes was like falling feet-first into the cold clutches of water. I cried out as the comfort of the sky slowly disappears only to be replaced by cerulean tides. They pulled me under, farther and farther away from the surface. Where was I? Where was I going? Will I even stay alive long enough to know? All I knew was the gently menacing lull of the ocean and the blood rushing in my ears.Ā
Help me. Your eyes felt like the cold of the ocean.
And in that moment, I realized I was drowning. Air bubbles flounced above me in a taunting dance, reminding me that itās too late. I was drowning in your eyes and it was too late, Iām too far gone. My grave will rest at the bottom of the deep, unforgiving ocean, where no one will even notice Iām gone. All I could feel was the shackles around my feet and the asphyxiation in my core. And I could only hope that Iāll forever live on in the deep blue of your ocean eyes.
Help me.
But, like an angel, your hands found themselves around mine, and my body suddenly felt lighter. The shackles on my feet seemed to melt away as the comforting glow of the surface draws closer. I drink up the air with welcome relief, and I hear you say,
āDonāt worry. Iāll always be here to save you.ā
You gestures to the vast ocean before us and guide my hands, my arms, my bodyā¦my heart. And I realizeā¦
Gazing into your eyes was like walking into a dark cave, but the sonata that once haunted me slowly dissipates in my ears, giving way to peace and wonder. For the first time, I ask myself, whatās at the end of the cave? I want to see it. I will see it. And I do. With tentative steps, I step into the cavern at the end and find myself amazed by the resplendent pool at its core and the colorful hues bouncing off its walls. The colors reflect off the waterās surface, and it takes me a minute to realize Iād stopped breathing. I hungrily inhale air and quickly threw aside my clothing to jump in, and I finally feel unfettered. The water surrounds me, but I no longer cry for help.Ā
Iām free. Your eyes feel like peace of mind.
Gazing into your eyes was like staring at a blank piece of paper, but the uncertainty that infected my mind blooms into potential. I grab the pencil and eagerly scribble across the surface, ideas restlessly coming to life before my eyes. And it occurs to me that Iām finally doing what I was afraid to do, what I thought I couldnāt do. I gasp and catch my breath, recollecting my thoughts. The blank slate that once taunted me has been graced with life, and when I look up, I see a proud smile on his lips and a loving lilt in his eyes.Ā
Iām free.Ā Your eyes feel like an anthem.
Gazing into your eyes was like falling head-first into the cold embrace of water, but I donāt drown. I breathe underwater, but thatās the least of my amazement. Colorful fish and flora fill my vision, lighting up the dark depths I thought Iād known so well. I realized that the sunās beams penetrate the oceanās vast depths, and it isnāt as lonely as I thought. It isnāt as scary as I thought. Like second nature, I swim for what seems like miles, my heart full of excitement.Ā
Iām free.Ā Your eyes feel like the act of simply being.
And in that moment, I realize I am alive. Your eyes feel like home.Ā
You feel like home.Ā
Your eyes put the ocean to shame for they hold a vastness far greater than any other. I never knew what it meant to drown until I saw your eyes ā you are my ocean, and for once, Iām no longer afraid.
Sincerely, yours.
Originally a vent fic posted on deviantArt for my thalassophobia.