Yet Another Reminder That Faking Is A Conscious Choice That You Make.

when it’s really bad again and it’s still way better than it used to be but it’s still really bad. and you do all the right stuff and you try and try and it still really hurts but it’s working but it still hurts and you go see the beautiful majesty of nature and your soul is so close to being at peace but your mind is still in pain. and it’s better but it’s still bad. and the sun is setting.

Don’t think about the fact that’s it’s implied stiles has his mother’s eyes. That every time he looks himself in the mirror he sees her eyes looking back at him. That when he looks at himself with deep hatred he sees his mother calling him a monster. He sees her eyes as she tries to kill him. Somedays that’s all he can see. So he avoids looking at himself in the mirror.

Don’t think about seeing void with his mother eyes, eyes that once again hold violence.

Don’t think about stiles holding head in hands. Thinking that the only thing his body has left of his mother is his eyes. That maybe if he gets rid of them, then his father would be able to look at him again.

Slowly digging his nails through the skin above his eyes. Thinking about gouging his eyes out and giving them to his dad. But not being able to do it but using the action to ground himself. Repeating it again and again and again over the years. Leaving scars just above his eyes to give him something else to look at. Something else to see that isn’t his mother’s hatred looking back at him.

Don’t think about his father falling into alcoholism. Tiny 8 year old stiles thinking that his father is grieving, and so he drinks that night. And the night after that and the next. And the drinking isn’t stopping but instead becoming more frequent. Don’t think about stiles holding onto hope that his father might tuck him into bed instead of reaching for the bottle. Stiles picking up whiskeys from the floor with the same colour of his eyes. Don’t think about the moment stiles realizes that his father is trying to drown himself in hopes of reaching Claudia at the bottom. The moment when he has to come to terms with the fact that he might lose both of his parents.

there’s something that’s incredible about the intersectionality and flexibility of werewolves as metaphor.

anger issues? werewolf. intrusive thoughts? werewolf. unresolved trauma? werewolf. rejection by society? werewolf. autism? werewolf. transgenderism? werewolf. queer expression of any sort? werewolf. plurality? werewolf. dissociation? werewolf. repression of any sort? werewolf. abuse cycles? werewolf. emotion so strong it physically changes you? werewolf!!!

really doing it all

thought about Maddie for a second and wanted to hug someone. this woman had the worst first marriage possible with someone she once believed she loved and thought loved her back. she fought her way out of that and met her freedom. found a friend in the gentlest man, loved him and allowed him to love her in return, so much that she proposed marriage because it was worth celebrating. she had the most heartbreaking time as a child, swallowing her own grief and trying to makeup for her parents' grief to make sure her remaining brother would survive. would feel loved. then she had to stay away from him in the worst way possible, twice even, and chose to come back. chose to let him love her bigger than postcards, listen to her stories about the brother they both shared. her heartbreak in her parents became her distrust in herself and she had a beautiful baby girl who needed to be protected and cherished. of course she deserved only the good in life but what if Maddie wasn't seeing herself as good. fought an ocean, ran across states, all so she could find the good in her reflection again and hold her baby girl with the warmth that was always theirs. helped people as a nurse, watching lives saved and lost every day for years, and didn't want to be seen that way but she found newer ways to help. protected her team. protected herself. lost herself. found herself even more. there's a brilliance to her that holds the ship steady. there's a strength to her clarity to her that lowers the anchors to get off the grief's waves and walk home to hope. there's anger and joy and fatigue and beauty - all wrapped up in every day she chooses. and she's choosing to live. with it all, for it all, she chooses to live.

what is life? a never ending micromanagement hell?

my favourite ship dynamic is “me and the bad bitch i pulled by being autistic” but you can’t tell which is which

To myself: “It’s ok to make bad art it’s ok to make bad art it’s ok to make bad art it’s ok to make bad art”

*the art is bad*

All (or at least how many Tumblr would let me add) of the LeATHERMOUTH Frank Iero pics I downloaded off Pinterest yesterday.

God, I need him.

i just need to grow my hair out -> i just need to cut my hair -> i just need to grow my hair out -> j just need to cut my hair

The only two times we saw Crowley kissing something/someone was when he was losing them