Archive for July, 2014

Hi! I was listening to the Female Gaze cosmetics episode in order to motivate myself to go to the grocery store rather than just staring dead-eyed at the single dusty packet of soup in my cupboard, and it gave me an unexpected wave of great emotional strength when you said you had sort of written off your face because I’d felt like I was the only human on earth who felt that way. So, not that I want you to dislike your face? But thank you for, like, your honesty and shit. It meant a lot to me.

Firstly, /fistbump of solidarity. 

Secondly, normally I would be answering you privately, except the more I think about this the more I think that someone else reading this in silence might get something out of our shared experience on this front.

I think that a lot of the modern feminism is about empowerment, about seizing the right and pleasures of feeling good about yourself. Look around any saucy female spaces and you see a lot of people exclaiming about looking fierce as fuck and not giving a damn because they look hella cute today – all with this fantastic, phenomenal positivity, and even more than that, a positivity that is normalized. We can feel good about ourselves and that is a normal thing! You’re gorgeous! You’re great! 

That said, in my lifelong losing fight with depression one of the most pervasive and inescapable things has been the desire for people who – out of nothing but love and the greatest of care – want me to be happy. It’s come from my parents and from my friends, and I understand why they want this (it’s nothing less than I want for them after all), but I have spent my entire fucking life figuring out a way to tell them gently that I don’t have the bandwidth to feel good a lot of days. A lot of days I’m just really happy not to feel shitty, or to not feel like I want to walk into traffic. It is the equivalent of telling a colorblind person to try and see red or green.

So for me, in a bizarre way, making a decision to give up on my face was at once crushing – who the fuck likes saying, “I’m too ugly to fix. Not even with this new mineral shit they advertise at 1 a.m., which I see every night because I’m not sleeping.” – and completely fucking liberating. 

After a while it stops being something that hurts you every time you stumble over it. Over the course of, I don’t know, weeks, months, a few years I stopped looking at my face when I saw my face, so I can be brushing my teeth or putting in my contacts and never process my face as a complete object. It’s just an eye or my upper lip or a part of my cheek. I don’t hate my eye or my upper lip or that part of my cheek. Taken out of their context they are just fine.

I’d really like to, eventually, or even occasionally, feel great about my face, or think I look cute as fuck. For the moment, I’m glad that I can just not think about it.

Anyway, the point is, I get you entirely. And I hope you got something delicious at the grocery store.

(For those of you don’t don’t have the context here, we’re discussing the make-up episode of Female Gaze.)

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cas-the-cat:

ADULT ONLY.

This is so cute I don’t even feel betrayed.

eros-turannos:

assassinregrets | assassinregrets:

NO

ONE

SWEATS LIKE WILL GRAHAM

HAS MORE PETS THAN WILL GRAHAM

NO ONE OUTLINES MORE CHALK SILHOUETTES THAN WILL GRAHAM

“I USE ANTLERS IN ALL MY INVESTIGATING”

OH WHAT A GUY WILL GRAHAM

NO ONE DREAMS LIKE WILL GRAHAM

CHOKES BACK SCREAMS LIKE WILL GRAHAM

NO ONE’S COMING APART AT THE SEAMS LIKE WILL GRAHAM

“I’M ESPECIALLY GOOD AT HALLUCINATING”

OH WHAT A GUY WILL GRAHAM

hessianliketheboot replied to your post: “Hey, so in the latest SPN /report ep, you guys mused on various potential spinoffs, and I wondered if you’d watch the obvious: next gen, Winchester girl who grew up away from it all finds out about her heritage and a world in which strangers have heard of her last name and angels and demons greet her like they know her. And she kicks ass & hunts? And maybe for the longest time we don’t even know if she’s Sam’s or Dean’s, but Castiel is on this show and some other characters make cameos as well??”:

twist: she’s Adam’s kid

I actually did a Mrs. Krabbaple HAH in my office break room.

Hey, so in the latest SPN /report ep, you guys mused on various potential spinoffs, and I wondered if you’d watch the obvious: next gen, Winchester girl who grew up away from it all finds out about her heritage and a world in which strangers have heard of her last name and angels and demons greet her like they know her. And she kicks ass & hunts? And maybe for the longest time we don’t even know if she’s Sam’s or Dean’s, but Castiel is on this show and some other characters make cameos as well??

This goes into the “I would have to see it and then make a call either way” category. I admit the idea itself is instinctively unattractive to me bc I don’t typically like next gen stories, but I could never say one way or the other without a concrete proof of concept.

That said, I have no clue how you could conceal whether they’re Dean or Sam’s kid unless the writer’s used contrivances as annoying as those from How I Met Your Mother. It’s like a 50-50 breakdown.

letyoursoul:

thyartisdisney:

LABRATHOR

HE IS SO WORTHY

“Worthy,” to Mjolnir, was a non-species specific trait.

That was great when Steve could lift Thor’s hammer in the heat of battle so that he or his team mates could live to fight another day, but was annoying as fuck when every other dog in New York City prance off with it in their jaws. 

The first time it had happened, it was a chocolate lab, who’d been sniffing around the the remains of Steve’s sandwich at the park, spied Mjolnir lying peacefully by Thor’s side, and decided to investigate. Thor had exclaimed loudly and at length when the dog had closed its jaws around the handle and lifted. Then everybody had started exclaiming loudly and at length when – motivated by the excitement of a new game – the dog had broken into a run back for its owner on the other side of the park.

“Oh shit,” Steve had said, and immediately booked it, seeing horrifying visions of the Avengers issuing an apology for accidentally crushing a civilian because they’d been playing fetch with a mythical weapon. 

To complete the farce of the day, he’d closed the last distance between himself, the dog, Mjolnir, and the pretty brown-haired woman who was his owner by sliding into home. 

Him lying on top of a total stranger, clutching a giant hammer, with a dog nosing enthusiastically at his backside, ended up splashed over every news source in America. Correction: in the world. Natasha had texted to say “lol just saw your boob faceplant on a news report in dprk good job buddy." 

Thor had been appropriately apologetic and surprised, saying he had no idea what Mjolnir had seen in the warrior beast, but that it must have had a noble spirit indeed. Tony just laughed until he made himself sick.

His comeuppance came just weeks later, when at a Maria Stark Foundation event for service docs, a puppy about to enter training fell in love with Mjolnir and tried to bring it to his handler. Thor, having remembered he was a prince of realms, had put on a tuxedo and tied back his golden hair, and Jane was – understandably – keeping him pretty busy by staring at his dreamy eyes or groping him outrageously where not too many children could see. The hammer had been left on the Avengers’ table.

Tony, from his vantage point making a series of exceptionally charming opening remarks on the stage, had seen a disaster in progress, yelled, "FUCK,” into the hot mic, whipped on his Hulkbuster armor, and thrown himself between the hammer and the handler. He ended up dented and bruised for his trouble, with a baby golden lab making whining noises and cowering away from him. 

“What the fuck,” Tony had yelled, when Thor had rushed over after he’d removed Jane’s hand from his man breast to move the hammer off of the creaking chestplates of his latest Iron Man suit. “Like what the fuck!”

“Maybe all dogs are noble and worthy of Mjolnir,” Bruce had guessed later, watching Clint and Natasha troll each other in increasingly childish ways to try and move the hammer some more. Again. At this point, they’d introduced physics and were trying to create a lever with some experimental industrial art Pepper had bought for the tower. 

“So just keep it away from dogs,” Natasha said, watching Clint dripping sweat and purple-faced with exertion, swearing at Mjolnir and straining his massive arms on the metal rebar to no avail.

Easier said than done, even for Natasha, when she found herself dogsitting Lucky at the tower two months later and had to explain to Stark what she’d done to shatter his Italian marble bathroom. 

“I told him to drop it,” she said, shrugging. “He did.”

Tony clawed at his goatee. “You – Pepper is already furious about the industrial art thing.”

“When we stopped messing with it, we left it in okay condition – you’re the one who got bored and tried to make a robot out of it,” Nat retorted without remorse.


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