blegh I hate that fanbases have simplified relationships in ‘shipping’ because I can’t find a lot of good analysis of aglaya and artemy’s relationship that isn’t “do you ship it?”
I have so many complicated feelings about aglaya and artemy and I think they care about each other in their own way, no I don’t think they are good for eachother, yes she loves him even if she’s manipulating him, no she does not love him she’s being manipulated by children, artemy might have a thing for milfs, I can’t call Aglaya’s sudden feelings for Artemy unrealistic because same, Artemy is driven by love for his family while Aglaya hates hers, do they have anything in common other that not liking the polyhedron? it makes no sense and all the sense. They live in an existential nightmare. Are feelings even real?
Powers that Be what are you doing making your dolls kiss
I’m calling it now, “I bet you did numbers on twitter” will become a new insult on tumblr.com.
treat yourself like you would treat your favorite character
I love the aesthetic of Wednesday (2022) so much that I don't want to watch this series so as not to spoil my experience with reality
Women in Greek Tragedy
ig / twitter / shop
lily evans, who everyone piles the highest expectations upon, and barty crouch jr, who everyone expects the absolute least from. lily, who is made out to be the model of this perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect friend, and barty, who is seen as this sort of caricature of a failure by everyone, even his own father. lily, who does not know how to deal with these pressures, and barty, who has his own twisted set of them that work in the other direction. they're two people who no one else actually sees as people, except the other. with the other, they can ditch all these stereotypes and pressures and expectations, and just be real-life humans.
reblog this and tag with a food you no longer have access to (closed restaurant, state you moved away from, ex’s mom’s cooking, etc) that will haunt you until your dying day, mine are the spicy chicken sandwich on the employee menu at the fine dining restaurant I was a prep cook at, and the onion bagel from the kosher place down the street from my house when I lived in the city
Someday somehow I'm gonna tell you about local Russian-speaking social net and its horrors but not today. Today is reserved for appreciation of the post and gratitude to Tumblr for giving us a shelter
you think you have it so bad here, you think tumblr posts are cursed. this is the height of privilege. i am not native here, and am an immigrant from the foreign website called "reddit". i came here in 2018 because i wanted to make a better life for myself and my posts. on reddit we have nothing. our posts vanish within hours. people do horrible things to earn even the smallest number of upvotes. they quote weather man. they quote weather man again and again and again. thats how it is on reddit, quote weather man or starve. i am ashamed to admit even i have stooped so low.
on tumblr if you make a spelling mistake no one will judge you. in my country if you make a spelling mistake every response will be someone passive-aggressively correcting you.
and the horrors. you here do not know the horrors. you think superwholock posts are cursed. you do not know the horrors of the cumbox. you do not know the horrors of the cum drawer. you do not know the horrors of the cum jar. you do not know the horrors of the woman who stuck rotting meat up her vagina or the ask a rapist thread. you do not know colby.
i have come to your website because i think your culture is beautiful and you are such a warm and welcoming people. i have worked hard to assimilate to your ways. i am honored to say that i, too, am a tumblrina. but please, you must know how good you have it here. when i see your "heritage posts" i cannot help but feel pangs, pangs of sorrow for my comrades who lived and died in a world you cannot imagine. that is my heritage posts. remember how good you have it.
✨️T H I S✨️
Me reading: WHO KILLS A CHARACTER? WHO IS THE MONSTER-
My friend: ...
Me: ... ok, I kill my characters, but that is a whole different situation. She killed my favorite character!
My friend: you... killed my favorite character too.
Me: C'est la vie, move on.
My friend: ...
I still hide you
in my poetry