Oh Bryan Fuller, you mad television genius, you. As if we weren’t already tickled by his small screen endeavors — the brilliant Hannibal being chief among them at the moment — the prolific writer/producer/doer-of-all-things has also undertaken the adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s acclaimed novel, American Gods, hopefully coming to Starz in the near future.
This will most likely be both amazing and fuel my nightmares for years.
Don’t get too high and mighty, ladies. Don’t step out of line. Don’t do anything to upset or disappoint men who feel entitled to your time, bodies, affection or attention. Your bared body can always be used as a weapon against you. You bared body can always be used to shame and humiliate you. Your bared body is at once desired and loathed.
Roxane Gay: The Great Naked Celebrity Photo Leak of 2014 is just the beginning (via guardian)
I wrote this
otherlil replied to your post “I fucking hate you. I’m sure you thought it would be freeing to…”
I’m sorry you lost your friend. It sucks that he turned out to be an arsehole and it’s awful that he’s made you doubt yourself. It probably doesn’t help but, you’re probably better off without him and so is his girlfriend. I hope you feel better soon
Thank you so much - honestly, I feel a bit better just having gotten it off my chest. I was just so blindsided by the whole thing that it made it worse, and I felt like I should have realized something was up earlier.
tea-books-and-blankets replied to your post “I fucking hate you. I’m sure you thought it would be freeing to…”
I really want to reblog this. But it seems so personal. It’s beautiful and I relate a lot. I’m sorry you have to go through this.
Thank you so much - this means so much to me, knowing you relate. If you want to reblog it, please go ahead. I posted it partly in the hope that other people would relate and feel a little less stranded - I know I’ve felt a bit lost these last couple days wondering if it was my fault or if other people had felt this way too.
I fucking hate you.
I’m sure you thought it would be freeing to confess your feelings to me, when on Friday night you offered to walk me home after a few drinks with our coworkers. I took you up on it - we live in the same neighborhood, and everyone is always telling me not to walk home alone at night in the city.
We’re friends. At least, I thought we were. We’ve worked together for a year, we get along well - I assumed we were friends, that you liked me because I’m good at my job and we have a similar sense of humor.
I guess I was a fucking moron.
I guess walking me home late on a Friday was the perfect time to get this off your chest. To sit me down and confess that you’ve been attracted to me for months. Your girlfriend is boring and possessive, I’m all you can think about, you feel awful but you have to tell me.
You didn’t have to tell me. No one made you confess. Did you really think I would immediately throw myself at you like Prince Fucking Charming? Do you really think so little of me? I know your girlfriend. I know you’ve been dating for three years, that you moved here because of her. Did you really think I would fuck someone I knew was in a serious relationship? That I would want you after you complained to me about her? That it wouldn’t trigger a thousand red flags in my brain?
I hate that you’ve ruined our relationship. That I feel like such a goddamn idiot for ever thinking you were such a great friend. I thought of you like an older brother, but I guess I’m just naive. I hate that I now feel constantly guilty, like I’m somehow implicit in the fact that you’re fucking over your girlfriend. I hate that I can’t take you seriously in the office now. I hate that I’m questioning all of my actions and dress and everything I’ve done in your presence for the last year. I hate that I’ve spent the last two days crying even though it’s entirely your fault.