Drama

He/him | I don’t even know at this point

[theplasticman]

Making gifs is so much fucking fun

[pinkmanapologist]

ok another thing that makes me really sad is how Skyler is clearly still living in Gretchen's shadow despite the fact that Walt hasn't been with Gretchen in over 20 years. Like Skyler gave up so much for Walt and for her family! she was a successful bookkeeper and accountant before she left her job to stay home and raise their disabled son. You can tell she took pride in her and her identity as a career woman by how easily she slips back into that role going back to work for Ted.

And I'm sure she could feel Walt's resentment for her bubbling under the surface long before the start of the canon. His hatred for himself and his mistakes, his decision to leave Gretchen and give up his shares of Grey Matter, his lack of upward mobility within his career. The many ways he's become a disappointment to himself by not fulfilling his potential that all end up spilling over into his feelings for Skyler. That's the thing about Walt that drives me crazy - he can't stand to face his own shortcomings so he places the burden of them on whoever around him is willing to bear that load for him. Sometimes it's Skyler, sometimes it's Jesse, I'm sure it used to be Gretchen and Elliot. Walt puts the blame on everyone but himself and holds onto the past like a security blanket that suffocates him. And Skyler is clearly intelligent enough to see that! She knows Walt isn't happy with the way his life turned out, she knows he still secretly longs for his old life - the one that was filled with limitless potential and high society parties instead of doctors appointments and strollers and the same 5 meals every week.

Idk lol it's just so obvious to me that Walt's problems and his deep resentment for his family were brewing long before his cancer diagnosis and subsequent identity crisis. Skyler, Flynn and Holly White you all deserve so much better than that deadbeat i am so sorry

[pinkmanapologist]

I personally think the fact that Skyler was pregnant and then newly postpartum for the majority of the show gets glossed over way too often lol. Not in an "oh pregnant women and new moms are soooo emotional 🙄" way either, but moreover like how deeply deranged a lot of Walt's behavior towards her really is in that context. Like here is this woman who is pushing 40, experiencing an unplanned pregnancy and all the financial and emotional concerns that come with that, raising a son who has a disability and handling all of the unique responsibilities and challenges that are a part of that experience, coping with what was essentially sold to them as a death sentence for her husband, all while also having to get back into the workforce after an extended time at home. It's crazy how vulnerable of a position Skyler was in during the time when Walter was sneaking around behind her back, lying and engaged in illegal activities right under her nose. Walt consistently harps on the stakes of his situation but ppl seem to completely disregard the weight of Skyler's. She gave birth without Walt. Handled the sleepless nights and diaper changes and night feedings and newborn tears without him. When she desperately asks him to get diapers at bedtime, he can't even do that for her without traumatizing Jesse and going to a bar while he's out of the house. Sometimes I remember that Skyler was an aspiring writer and I just want to cry lol. Losing so much of herself in motherhood and caught up in Walter White's web of lies and abuse. that's a tragedy of Breaking Bad I seldom see discussed but it's one I think about every time I watch the show. Skyler White you will always be one of my favorites, I love you so much

[retroactivebakeries]

“I have performed the necessary butchery. Here is the bleeding corpse.”

— Henry James, after a request by the Times Literary Supplement to cut three lines from a 5,000 word article (via annadevries)

[mlpoutofcontext]

[lemonysnicketblog]

The Full "I Will Love You." Letter. The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket

Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope.

I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fetuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it. I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear daggerproof tunics, and as a daggerproof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.

[finelythreadedsky]

Ursula K. Le Guin, "Learning Latin in Old Age" (from Finding My Elegy: New and Selected Poems, 2012)

[locuas642]

The thing about Katara is that she was angry.

She was angry that the Fire Nation killed her mother.

She was angry that her father left them.

She was angry that she was the only Waterbender left in the south pole.

She was angry that the only person her age was her brother, who constantly disregarded her interests and her role in the tribe.

She was angry that what little waterbending she knew, had to be self-taught and how she struggled with that.

she was angry that a twelve year old instantly picked up what had taken her a long time to learn.

she was also angry that her tribe wanted to kick that twelve year old into the wilderness over a mistake.

she was angry over the earth-benders the fire nation had captured and put into a metal box.

she was angry.

And she knew she was angry.

Because she knew her own anger, she was the first to empathize with Aang when he got angry.

And it was because of it she could tell Aang forcing himself to lock his emotions up was not the answer.

Because she knew her own anger, she kept herself under control in the dessert, when everyone else was a mess.

Her anger empowered her. where anger was a tool of self-destruction for firebenders, for her it was what helped her push forward.

It was her anger that freed Aang.

It was her anger that helped her stand to Pakku.

Her anger was her strenght.

She was angry. And this was neither a mistake, nor a writing flaw.

[maaarine]

Cunk on Earth 1x04

[finelythreadedsky]

ALT

Ursula K. Le Guin, “Learning Latin in Old Age” (from Finding My Elegy: New and Selected Poems, 2012)

[sanguinarysanguinity]

Expanding a thought from a conversation this morning:

In general, I think "Is X out-of-character?" is not a terribly useful question for a writer. It shuts down possibility, and interesting directions you could take a character.

A better question, I believe, is "What would it take for Character to do X?" What extremity would she find herself in, where X starts to look like a good idea? What loyalties or fears leave him with X as his only option? THAT'S where a potentially interesting story lies.

In practice, I find that you can often justify much more from a character than you initially dreamed you could: some of my best stories come from "What might drive Character to do [thing he would never do]?" As long as you make it clear to the reader what the hell pushed your character to this point, you've got the seed of a compelling story on your hands.

[teamingmate]

Playing patho classic and I just love them. doctors

[remnantglow]

i love when characters don't get to die

[remnantglow]

this is about villains/antagonists/general horrible people who finally face up to what they've done. especially if they try to pull the good ole "Dramatically Does One Good Thing To Redeem Themselves And Dies," but despite their best efforts they DON'T die. like yes motherfucker there's no easy way out for you, there's only the slow, awkward and painful process of learning to live with yourself. of learning to live with the weight of your mistakes. you get a second chance regardless of if you think you deserve it. you get to try to make amends and do good. you get to live.

[remnantglow]

this is also about every self-sacrificial bastard of a protagonist who puts themselves in harm's way again and again and again to a wildly unhealthy and unnecessary degree. see, there's something so compelling to me in the unspoken suicidality of repeated heroic self-sacrifice, and the thing about implicitly suicidal characters is that i want them to live. and that can be used to make a death so much more tragic and impactful - noble sacrifices and last stands certainly can and have been done beautifully - but there's also something special to me in seeing such a character make it. because you'd die for the people you love, yes, but would you live for them?

[scrapsofinspiration-deactivated]

florence welch was right, it picks me up puts me down chews me up spits me out a hundred times a day picks me up puts me down i'm always running from something i push it back but it keeps on coming and being clever never got me very far

[halondrus]

I like that red bitch from baldurs gate because she looks like the Eredaar from warcraft. No I won't learn their names

[halondrus]

i like this comment. i like it a lot

[halondrus]

i really liked this i drew her from memory. carl fanart

[swagvo1d]

fire, walk with me

[in-your-walls]

Twin Peaks (1990-1991) / “The Unified Theory of Ophelia: On Women, Writing, and Mental Illness”, B.N. Harrison