maybe kindness is the real punk rock

jay | any pronouns |📍 12 hours away from the ocean

[cuunos]

being a kid and hearing adults say stuff like "woah 2011 was 4 years ago haha" didn't really convey the fucking horror of a youtube video crossing my recommended labelled "9 years ago" and it's from 2017. that's not true. 9 years ago is 2010 or something. don't lie.

[gaygoatshane]

ilya promising children cash if they win knowing he's gonna let them win and then asking shane for money because he doesn't have his wallet. he wasn't even an annoying husband yet but he was letting shane know his potential

[virginshane]

man was auditioning

[ashes-to-ashesxx]

the holidays - a jegulus microfic

When James first starts bothering Regulus, Regulus is fourteen. James is fifteen. Regulus doesn't entertain him, only gives him short comments, mostly to insult him.

The first crack comes the week before Christmas holidays.

"Are you excited to go home for Christmas?" James asks him while Regulus dips his quill in a pot of black ink. He let James stick around for most of his time in the library that day, said he was to busy to be bothered trying and failing to get James to leave.

James knows Sirius hates going home for the holidays, but Sirius told him before that Regulus is much fonder of their parents. So maybe he enjoys Christmas holidays.

Regulus furrows his eyebrows without looking up at James.

"I don't go home at Christmas," he states blankly, as if it doesn't hurt him in the slightest. James tilts his head to the side in confusion. That can't be right.

"Sirius always goes home during the holidays, you don't join him?" James sees Regulus' hand start to shake as he asks the question.

"Sirius has duties at home. Mother says it's best I stay here so I can catch up with studies instead of falling behind."

It's the bluntness of his tone that worries James most. Even as his lip starts to quiver, his voice never falters. He keeps writing, answering robotically as if he's explained the situation many times before. He doesn't look James in the eye.

"Your parents don't want you home for Christmas?" Regulus doesn't answer this time, he keeps gliding his quill over his parchment. "You just stay here in the castle by yourself? I heard Dorcas say the twins and Crouch are going home. She's going to Marlene's. They let you stay here alone—"

Regulus' quill tears through his parchment. James pauses. Regulus' knuckles have gone white with his grip on the quill but before James can apologise Regulus drops it in frustration.

He picks up his belongings, crumples the torn parchment and shoves everything into his bag. When he starts to walk away, James trails after him, trying to apologise.

Regulus stops, James almost banging into him. "Do us both a favour, Potter," he suggests, turning around. "Stop asking me questions and leave me the fuck alone."

Without another word, he briskly leaves the library, leaving James to watch his retreating form.

James needs to owl his parents about staying in Hogwarts for Christmas.

[femdreamland]

Ilya making lunch for his kids: Healthy food cut into fun different shapes. A little sweet treat for balance. A note saying how much their dads love them 🩷

Ilya making lunch for his first daughter, Anya: Cooking her plain meat and rice and plating it in her fancy little bowl 🐶 (no canned dog food)

Ilya getting lunch for himself: Monster energy drink with one single McDonald hash brown and 3 M&Ms 🔥

[imeonasy]

spot the jfp

[angelsamericana]

i love how everyone on this website interacts with each other in ways that are so socially impermissible irl. how did we get here

[angelsamericana]

like i know none of us call people we barely know "bestie" out loud. i know none of us say "i am kissing you on the mouth" in response to every mild compliment. but god i wish we did

[angelsamericana]

(recent) tumblr exclusive linguistic phenomena:

bestie (said to someone you've never spoken to directly)

so false worstie

we are holding hands

i am kissing you on the mouth

you're going in the soup

variations on "your dad looks gnc af" "YOURE INSANE"

mutuals (technically this exists on other social media but not in spirit)

[gunshots] (people say this on twitter but they say it wrong)

using periods incorrectly to. fine tune the cadence of a line

my beloved/my beloathed

hyperspecific day of the week holidays e.g. flat fuck friday

variations on gaslight gatekeep girlboss

and, of course, prev tags

[ehentalix]

I think my absolute favorite is "Thank you for the input, Tumblr user [[wildly inappropriate username]]"

[supertaliart]

I’m on the younger side for a college professor, and one of my students started saying “So true bestie” then panicked and tried to pivot and ended up with “So true professtie”

[mlarayoukai-archive]

having your own money is fucking dangerous because the only person stopping me from buying whatever I want is myself. and myself has bad judgment sometimes

[starlingabyss]

Carl and Stratt packing Grace’s bag so he can go save the stars🚀💫😭

[ineffag-swag]

I guess I must have amazing taste because somehow everything that I like are things that I enjoy

[soshinee]

“whoa” and “woah” is the same but also they are very different… only a select few are capable of understanding this nuanced topic….

[emmaharwoods]

lisa mcgee i love you forever

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

the benoit blanc movies show really beautifully how to write a queer character whose story is not centered around their queerness. it's shown that benoit blanc is gay married (to hugh grant!) it's shown that he participates in queer mediums like musical theater and fashion, but none of those things are ever explicitly remarked on. he doesn't have a big coming out scene because he doesn't need one; and the subtle details about him not speaking to his mother, the way he associates a church with homophobia, allows us to draw conclusions about how his family felt about his queerness without making that the sole conflict in his story. the conflict in benoit blanc's story is not that he exists in the world as a gay person, it's that he's always trying to wrangle a bunch of 30 somethings into not confessing to crimes they didn't commit

[edgebug]

"grace. grace! grace give attention. rocky perform human ritual of escape closet now. statement."

"come again?"

"i learn more from thinking machine. human gender preference. attraction to same gender, means word 'gay.' all eridian same gender." rocky stands straight up. "rocky come out to grace now. all rocky plural gay, statement."

"...wow, that's... rock, i'm not sure it makes much sense to apply human ideas of sexual orientation to a monogendered species."

a long and judgmental pause. then:

"grace HOMOPHOBIC, question????"

[machinot]

Settings >

-hands>

- -manage skin >

- - -pick at skin around fingernails

[amazondolphinmc]

Saw the template on pinterest and wanted to do a silly. I'm happy with how Adrian and Stratt turned out, I need to draw them properly

[thestuffedalligator]

"Um," said the fairy. "Choose something else."

Rosamund hesitated. It was, she had to admit, the first time she had ever been given a wish, so she wasn't an expert with this sort of thing, but she felt that this was not part of the typical script. "Sorry," she said. "Is that not allowed?"

The fairy grimaced. When it spoke, its voice came out pained and stressed. "Y-y-y-e-e-e-no," it sighed at last, dragonfly wings sagging. "No, technically no, it's not not allowed, but-" It suddenly brightened. "How about gold? Can't go wrong with gold. Gold's a good wish."

Rosamund frowned. This was really not going the way she expected at all. "Excuse me-"

"Beauty, that's a good one too, beauty's always popular," it went on. "And if there's a ball nearby tonight I can probably-"

"Excuse me!"

The wand was twiddled in chitinous fingers. "Right," the fairy said, sounding scolded. "Sorry, it's just..." Its voice trailed off.

Her grandmother's clock chimed midnight from the mantelpiece.

Then - "I'm sorry," it said, not daring to look up, "I know it's not fair, but - you know what I am. You know what we do to wishes. If you wished for wealth I'd have to turn your hair into silver, so you’d have to tear every strand out of your head before you could spend it. We can't help it. It's what we do. The cost of a wish is that you get what you want, but you don't get it the easy way.

"So if you wish for a child, it'll be - strange. Twisted, somehow. Made of pine or marzipan or have the head of a hedgehog. That's the cost of a wish-child; you'll get the child you wished for, but it'll never be - right."

Rosamund waited to see if there was anything else. She felt a sting to her pride when she realized there wasn't. "Is that all?" she said. "I wouldn't care what I got-"

"You all say that," the fairy said. "You all say you wouldn't care what you got. You all say it, and you really believe it, until the neighbours sneer at you and your hedgehog child for too long, or your back aches because your thumb-high child can't help you in the fields, or your pine child kicks and bites and won't obey, and then you think, 'This isn't the way it was supposed to be,' and then..."

The fairy stopped and looked into Rosamund’s eyes. It was a beautiful thing, all glittering carapace and iridescent wings, but just for an instant it looked terribly, terribly old.

"I'm sorry," it said. "But I'm tired of making unloved children."

[ailelie]

"I will give my life for this child," she replies in one world. "By my love or by my flesh and blood."

"So be it," the fairy replies. "You will keep your word."

And in one version of that world, she proves the fairy's fears wrong. She loves her hedgehog, thumb-high, surly pine child with all her heart. The child grows knowing it is wanted and loved. It grows knowing it always has a home, that it belongs.

In another version of that world, Rosamund fails. On the evening she gives up, the fairy finds her. "You promised," it says. In that world, the fairy takes her flesh and blood for the child, crafts it a body that will belong. And Rosamund becomes a soft pine doll, waiting to be loved, waiting to be real.

In this world, in either version, the child grows up happy and belonging.

In another world, the fairy's ancient grief stabs Rosamund deeper than her pride. "Where are these children?" she asks, horrified.

"Many are long-dead," the fairy replies.

"But not all. Take me to them."

"Is that your wish?" the fairy asks.

"If it must be."

In one version of this world, the fairy brings her to a household with a prickly, hedgehog daughter. The girl's mother cries, "How can I love her if I cannot hold her?"

"You were given a gift!" Rosamund roars in this world. "Give her to me if you are too cowardly to love her."

Rosamund takes the daughter and gently holds the girl's hands. "You deserve so much more than you've received."

"Are there more?" Rosamund asks the fairy once the girl has fallen asleep.

"Yes."

"Take me to them."

"You haven't even had this child for one night."

"How can I let those children wait? None of them deserve such pain."

In another version of this world, the fairy refuses. "You do not know what you ask."

"And you don't know what you've begun," Rosamund replies. She leads a crusade to find the fae children, to save them.

She lavishes the children with praise and love, but the story becomes twisted. Such brave children they are, daring to live despite such odd lives.

The thumb-high child will never find a spouse, and yet he remains so cheerful. What an inspiration he is.

In another world, Rosamund says, "Let me prove it to you."

"How?" the fairy challenges.

Rosamund does not hesitate. "Marry me. Let me prove I can love the strange and fae. Let me prove my love is stronger than daydreams and gossip. When you believe me, we will make a child together however you wish."

In one version of this world, the fae says, "No. Choose another wish."

"No," Rosamund replies. And the two remain locked in stalemate and the story never ends.

In another version of this world, the fae sighs. "Is that your wish?"

"No. My wish is unchanged, but I am willing to wait for your approval. I wait for bread to rise and rain to fall. Waiting on you for a child will be no hardship."

"And if I never approve?"

"You will."

And in this version, Rosamund and the fae are wed. Rosamund's friends and family harry her with concern. Her meager wealth dwindles as fewer are willing to buy the bread she bakes for fear of her spouse's enchantments.

"Do you regret this yet?" the fairy asks.

"When I was cold last week, you draped a cloak of cobwebs around my shoulders and I stopped shivering. How could I regret such kindness?"

After a long period without rain and the village drives them both out, the fairy asks again, "do you regret this yet?"

"When we had too little to drink, you collected the dew from every blade of grass around our home so we did not thirst. How could I regret such clever diligence?"

And when Rosamund falls deeply ill after too many nights sleeping exposed to every chilled breeze, the fairy presses its cool brow to her burning one and asks, "how do you not regret this yet?"

Rosamund weakly brushes her fingertips along the fairy's cheek. "You're crying for me. How can I possibly regret being loved by you? I told you my love is greater than hardship."

"This is not how these stories go," the fairy argues.

"I'm human," Rosamund says with a cough. "I twisted it."

In one version of this world where the fairy said "yes" to Rosamund's proposal, she dies, and the fairy collects another regret.

In another version, it carries Rosamund home beneath the hill and heals her. Then, together, they make and raise a child.

And that child is deeply, unconditionally loved.

[priorwaltress]

all babies are baby gender. you dress them stupid, in pumpkins and teddy bear suits