mother texts me

kanto mom: completely dismisses her son until he becomes a hermit on a mountain top for 3 years, then she misses him

johto mom: ready to help at all times, will always mom her child, spoils child but doesn’t even know her own kid’s interests

hoenn mom: tired, done with Norman’s garbage, trusts that her child can take care of their self, wants child to deal with Norman

sinnoh mom: young at  heart, does contests and enjoys travel, loves her child and doesn’t want them to worry

unova mom: super supportive, outgoing ex-trainer, absolutely heartbroken over their missing child but tries to hide it

unova mom the sequel: gentle, always there for their kid, will always listen, great friendship with her child

kalos mom: famous, flirts with any attractive man, ran over her own husband with a rhyhorn and laughs about it 

it’s just…… so sad.

my mother has always told me stories about growing up with sexism, when women were barely doctors, when my mother’s teachers told her women can’t do this and this and this, how time and time again she has been targeted for being a woman, and with this election, my mom was so excited to be able to vote for a female president. because that would have shown how far we’ve come in her lifetime alone. she would say that she was so happy and so proud to be able to vote for a woman and to have her daughter (me) voting in the most important election of [my mother’s] life. she texted me the morning the polls opened and said she was the first one there and that she even wore a pantsuit in honor of Hillary and how even though people gave her dirty looks, she was so proud and so happy to have been able to vote for a woman despite all the changes women have faced. i was happy for her (regardless of what Hillary may or may not have done). i even had a little hope that maybe, maybe, it might happen. it should have happened.

we had probably the most qualified person to ever run for presidency face someone the least qualified and she lost.

i was the one who stayed awake to watch the results. i was the one who, in horror, shame, disgust, anger, texted my mother at 2 in the morning to tell her that trump won. i was just so disappointed. i wanted so badly to be the one to tell her that her dream had come true. she texted me later in the morning and said she was in shock and she felt like crying (which i had been doing since the results came in)

it’s just so crazy that not only was the most qualified candidate defeated, she was a woman who was defeated by a blatant and proud misogynist, a racist, transphobic, xenophobic, homophobic, a rapist, a child molester who brags about being able to get away with sexually assaulting women and girls because he’s famous.

yes, we’ve come so far in america with women’s rights, but not far enough. millions and millions of people chose to knowingly elect a rapist.

i am terrified for women’s reproductive rights, for equality in the workplace, for all the sexual assaults and rapes that are going to get blown over even more than they already do because, hey, the president did it. the president told us to just grab women by the p*ssy.

i am terrified for everyone else affected, not only women (which includes trans, nonbinary, anyone who identifies as a woman, etc), but for LGBT+, for people of color, for immigrants, for anyone who isn’t Christian, for the people who aren’t ridiculously wealthy, and for people who aren’t even Americans, because the elections in America don’t just affect the US, but the world.

America: Who would recognize the smell of nutmeg, anyways?

Canada: I would.

America:… nutmeg? Really? 

Canada: Yeah.

America:*Jumps up* 

America: I don’t believe you. I’m going to challenge that. I’m going to put three different spices in containers and we’ll see if you can identify the nutmeg!!

Shit Abled People Say #317

“Bipolar, schizophrenia, it’s all the same, because you’re up and down and talk to voices in your head.” My dad to me, a schizoaffective, talking about my mother who he said was bipolar/schizophrenic (she is neither) <sarcasm>:) :) :) :)</sarcasm>

do you ever like a show sooo much that it changes your ambitions and goals? like one day you wake up and you’re like ya i’m down for working in a dull office with a douchey yet extremely caring boss and meet the love of my life there, or ya i’m totally going to travel the country as an fbi agent and solve horrific murders along side my model status co workers, or HELL IMMA BE A SUPER HERO AND SAVE ALL OF HELLS KITCHEN

  • me: idols don't have to speak or learn english for international fans, we need to respect that!
  • also me: *searches for youtube compilations of biases saying something in english*
  • Me before Stranger Things: I literally do not have a single maternal bone in my body *sees a child* oh gross
  • Me after Stranger Things: This is my beloved daughter, Eleven, blood of my blood and light of my life. I've enrolled her in the best school in our district, I make sure she eats three wholesome meals a day, she's always in bed before 10, with the door left ajar, the hall light on, and a nightlight on by the bed and if you so much as breathe in her direction I will FUCKING END YOU.

My grandfather was a college lecturer with advanced degrees in history.

He was the spouse of an American woman (my grandmother, obviously) and came from a fairly well-to-do, educated family.

He also had to register every semester for college courses he never attended just to maintain a student visa, because in the 1940s, not even employment, financial stability, education, and a spouse’s citizenship were enough for a brown man from India to be allowed a permanent resident card.

Flash forward to seventy years later and I’m getting texts from a Pakistani-American friend wondering if her husband is going to be allowed to stay with her and their two children because he’s a Muslim immigrant from South Asia, and my mother is sending me texts saying my Jewish-Indian father is basically in shock, and won’t even come downstairs because he’s too upset to do anything but stare at the bedroom wall.

The message is clear: My friend, her husband, my father, my grandfather, me—we aren’t welcome in this country. White Christian comfort has been declared more important than our safety. I at least am pale and don’t read as somebody partly of South Asian descent (though that’s cold comfort given that I’m still Jewish, autistic, and a woman), but that’s not true for my father or my friends. They are visibly brown, and they are terrified.

I used to wonder what my grandfather would think of the booming South Asian population here in the U.S.; the influx of Desis into a space he used to occupy alone. Now I think if he looked out at the American landscape today, he would tell you that almost nothing in the past seventy years had changed.

“I’m watching the season finale of a show I started today” a novel by me

I often see many posts featuring or discussing my relationships with Frisk and Asriel. While I most certainly love all of them an infinite amount, Chara seems to be left out much of the time…

If you are Chara, I just want you to know that no matter what, you are my child and I love you just as much.

Tonight at work an old, brittle woman ordered a “latte”, so I steamed the milk and brewed the espresso, because that’s what a latte consists of.

At the barista counter, I kindly ask the woman if she would like cinnamon on top before I snap the lid on.

“Cinnamon?! The last time I ordered a latte here they put whipped cream on top!”

This is an old woman. I smile. I think maybe she ordered incorrectly/forgot or whatever.

I explain that the only lattes that come standard with whipped cream on top are the flavored lattes: caramel/mocha/vanilla/miscellaneous seasonal syrup.

I tell her regular lattes usually only come with cinnamon, and I ask her if that’s what she actually wanted, and offer to pump some syrup in. I smile.

Which is kind of swell of me because that’s giving away product that was not rung up and sent through an order. I’m super nice and accommodating, because I want this old woman to not be confused or disappointed with her whipped-cream-less drink.

“I didn’t order a REGULAR latte. I ordered a LATTE. What don’t you understand?!”

OH. Thanks for clarifying.. LITERALLY NOTHING.

“Ma'am, I’d be more than happy to give you whipped cream, I just wanted to make sure that you actually wanted a regular cafe latte, and didn’t order the wrong drink on accident.”

“WHY do you keep saying REGULAR latte?! I ordered a LATTE. I didn’t say REGULAR. I never said regular!”


(Five hours later)

After a night full of almost throwing steamed milk at the elderly, I am finally closing barista.

I have been scheduled for a six hour shift. Which means no break. Which means legally, I need to be clocked out at 5 hours and 59 minutes.

At 22 minutes to the deadline, my manager tells me that we are OUT. OF. LETTUCE.

“Plz!” she begs. “Drive to Stop & Shop and buy us lettuce! Take these 40 dollars and buy as much romaine as it will get you! Hurry!”

I am frantically running around the produce aisle looking for suitable romaine, because let’s be serious, am I a real adult? Do I know how to Stop & Shop?

No. No, I do not.

I use the calculator on my phone (because I’m an English major), and figure out I can purchase 10 whole bags of romaine. They only have 9. I take them all. I clear out the romaine aisle like it is nobody’s business.

I am POWER WALKING (running is dangerous and hurtful) through the super market, because I am on a VERY limited schedule here.

I drop my lettuce on the floor.

I pick it up.

I get asked by the man next to me if I own many rabbits.


“I have a bunny, myself.”

I’m sorry, sir, but we are not bunny owning soul mates STEP ASIDE.

I buy so much lettuce.

I run to my car.

I strap the lettuce into the passenger seat.


“Did you pay for it yet?”

(Totes not a drug deal)

“Yeah. Why?”

“We just found a case of romaine; CaN YoU GO rETurn iT?”

CAN I???

Stop & Shop associates look highly displeased at my immediate distaste for their lettuce. “Was there something wrong with the lettuce?”

Yes, there was something wrong with the lettuce. My receipt says I bought 9 bags of romaine lettuce literally 2 minutes ago, and you’re assuming I got as far as the parking lot before deciding to condemn my diet, or put my bunnies up for adoption, or WHATEVER.

“NO. The lettuce was great!” I say.

It is my life that is a lie.

“Come now, Tamlin,” Rhysand said. “Shouldn’t you reprimand your lackey for speaking to me like that?”

“I don’t enforce rank in my court,” Tamlin said. - ACOTAR 

“But now—now we need order, Feyre. We need rules, and rankings, and order, if we’re going to stand a chance of rebuilding. So what he says goes. I am the first one the others look to—I set the example. Don’t ask me to risk the stability of this court by pushing back.”  - ACOMAF 

Okay I know I’ve pointed out the irony in that first line before but with reference to Rhys and the way he and the Inner Circle actually function but I think it’s also incredibly telling with Tamlin. The more power he has the tighter he holds on to it. 

I think what happened UtM broke him. I think that this is a response to feeling helpless under Amarantha all those months. But the worst part about all of this is that he becomes what he despises. In trying to force the order that Lucien hammers here, in order to heal he becomes the things he hated most. His leadership style emulates his father and brothers but it also emulates Amarantha. 

She made him feel powerless; she took away his power, both literally with his magic and then figuratively having him sit beside her and be her plaything while she toyed with Feyre. He reacts by seizing control of the power that’s been returned to him and abusing it. He tightens his hold on the Spring Court and everything that he can control (everything that he couldn’t control UtM) he controls now.  

Amarantha stripping his power away from him made him incapable of protecting Feyre UtM (at least in his mind: but he could have tried more than the silent brooding but anyway) Now that he has that back he takes it to incredible extremes. And the culmination of this controlling protection is trapping her in the Spring Court - the same way Amarantha trapped her Under the Mountain. He becomes the embodiment of his fears; he becomes what he hated and there is a certain tragedy in that. 

I think this also explains why, even though it was foregrounded in ACOTAR he was never as bad with especially Lucien pushing back against him (which Lucien does a lot, lot more of in ACOTAR) It’s about control. Lucien refers to himself as the example that the others in the court follow (which has some incredibly sinister undertones - especially because it’s repeated - but that’s too hc based to discuss here) but Lucien talks about the stability of the court and directly ties ‘pushing back’ (again that line) with that stability. 

I think Tamlin’s already controlling instincts were exacerbated by Amarantha and what happened UtM. I think he enforces rank so strongly here when he claimed that he didn’t before because it’s an attempt to affirm his power and regain the control he lost UtM. But it becomes incredibly toxic and abusive. He becomes the worst version of himself - the version that emulates the person who took control from him as a way to get it back. 

Tamlin reacts instead, based on how he behaved in ACOTAR, by seizing control and clinging to it like an anchor. If he can control everyone in his court, if he structures and orders his court to this great extent and degree it reassures him of his own control. It reassures him that he is the king of his own castle again. Which is why he doesn’t let anyone push back. Which is why he unleashes his power on Lucien when Lucien dares try. It’s why he wrecks the study when Feyre tells him he’s drowning her and she doesn’t want him to do it any more: because it threatens his control and his power. 

Tamlin doesn’t like having his authority challenged. This was true about him in ACOTAR: “he’d likely shred them for disobeying him…you don’t hold onto power by being everyone’s friend” // “Don’t ever disobey me again” this just worsens tenfold in ACOMAF. It was all in there already, it just becomes worse and far more toxic and I think conscious than it already was. 

 The way he responds to Amarantha is a good reflection of it: he doesn’t do anything to help Feyre/react to what’s going on because that’s what she wants and he won’t give in to her. He stubbornly tries to resist instead of working around or undermine. He doesn’t know how to undermine or work a system the way Rhys and arguably Lucien do; he only knows how to confront with brute strength and make his own show and claim on power of his own. 

And so when he gets that power back he refuses to let anything stand between it and him. As long as he has that control over the things he considers to be his: his court, his subjects, like Lucien, his betrothed, Feyre, he’s happy. But this mentality and this own way of coping is incredibly selfish and damaging. He sacrifices Feyre and Lucien’s (and his court if you consider the Tithe) mental health and well-being for the sake of his own peace of mind. 

He reassures himself that he’s escaped Amarantha, that he has power here but in doing so he becomes like her. He becomes abusive. He becomes controlling. He uses force and fear to stifle and control those around him in order to assert his own dominance over them. He puts down and harms those around him to make them more meek and manageable. He prioritises his need to feel in control over everything else. He’s not driven by mindless cruelty but by the selfish desire to feel in command of the situation regardless of the damage it does to those around him. 

Rhys again works as a good contrast to further my point here: he emphasises the continued existence of the things that Amarantha stripped from him as his way of recovering. He emphasises the fact that they are free now, he emphasises the fact that they now have agency again, he emphasises the fact that they have choices that are entirely their own to make. He emphasises the fact that they are in control of themselves again by reminding himself and Feyre that Amarantha no longer owns them.

Rhys’ method allows for the recovery of others as well. Tamlin’s does not. In the same way he shut out her nightmares; that reminder of the trauma they shared; that reminder of weakness that Amarantha made him feel he shuts out her need for recovery. He forces himself back to an extreme normality, reaffirms his place as High Lord and his only consideration for Feyre is to force her to do the same. Force her to play the role of his wife, attend parties, organise the wedding, tries to get her to paint again, tries to force her to cope the same way he’s coping: by burying his head in the sand and becoming the worst version of what he was before Amarantha: the controlling, dominant High Lord because that helps him. 

But he ignores Feyre’s needs. He doesn’t realise that trying to force this normalcy on her, trying to force her into playing this role for him is almost exactly the same as what Amarantha did. Forcing her to play her game, to play the part in her performance to make her feel in control. But in the meantime it strips away Feyre’s agency and control which are things that she needs. She needs choices, she needs agency, she needs these things reinforced in order to heal herself. 

This is why what he does triggers her so badly: his behaviours directly reflect his counter to his trauma; seizing control of everything around him: which is what Amarantha did to Feyre UtM and when it upsets her so much but Tamlin doesn’t care. Tamlin doesn’t stop to think about Feyre, what she went through, Tamlin just wants to feel in control again because that makes him feel okay and damn whatever he has to do to achieve that. 

 This is what Rhys does for her. Rhys tailors his response to her trauma. He is mindful of her triggers. He helps her to master her abilities and gives her the methods of protecting herself (rather than simply protecting her himself which is what Tamlin does: he wants to protect her, he wants to take care of her because that gives him purpose and again, power. He wants her to need him and rely on him because that gives him control. He does a similar thing with Lucien) advances her education to help improve her understanding, encourages her freedom and independence even at times when it costs him to do so. 

In a very reductive nutshell: in trying to get over what happened to them Tamlin becomes Amarantha; Rhys rises above her. 

I think what’s really getting me about Ghostbusters is … I … literally can’t recall an instance of woman-centric media where:

  • Women are allowed to eat but most especially, a FAT WOMAN is allowed to eat and there are jokes about her food but the joke isn’t that she is fat.
  • Four women main characters and children are not mentioned ONCE, nada, Z E R O TIMES.
  • No relationship talk at all. No one is having a tough time with an ex. No one is falling in or out of love. It’s not even something on the radar.
  • Just a story about four hella babes fighting ghosts/toxic masculinity/Nice Guys™.