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@oncomingtragedy
[Image description: White text on a black background reads: The next time you see someone enjoying something, that isn't hurting anyone, that's not your cup of tea instead of saying something negative train yourself to think to yourself "I'm glad they're happy" and carry on with your life. /end description]
You are a supervillain who has just captured your rival’s child. Rather than being afraid, they’re begging you to let them stay.
Frankly, you’d known those idiots had had a kid for years now. You’d pretended not to, because while you’d committed a lot of atrocities in your life, you weren’t willing to face the moral quandary of whether you would knowingly kill a child just to spite its parents.
They probably thought they were being clever though, what with the blaming you for an injury you knew damn well you’d never given keeping one of them out of commission for a few months, then references to what they would ‘leave behind’ or ‘could not follow’ when in the latest death trap. One of them had accidentally pulled a pacifier out of their utility belt once, and tried to pass it off as being prepared for any young children they came across while rescuing.
Idiots.
Still, you had standards. Standards that fell somewhere past war crimes and before common decency, but they were standards.
It’s INSANE to me how controversial romance novels are. Romance novels. Like, being openly a fan of them immediately opens you up to people constantly coming at you like “but don’t you think it’s ~limiting- and ~juvenile~ to have a genre of books with happy endings for women?”
Like.
No?
Why is it such a big deal to want to read stories where women have sex and then don’t die at the end? Jesus Christ.
Why is the concept of female characters being happy seen as less creative than female characters suffering? (Trust me, creating a world where women win in the end takes a lot more creativity and artistic vision lmfao)
Anyway, literary bros will pry my romance novels with their happy endings from my cold dead fingers.
Or die in the very beginning of the book. But no one calls out James Patterson for writing another formulaic thriller in which a woman is horrifically killed after getting laid and then some man solves her murder. Every. Damn. Time.
But hey, those romance novels where women get happy endings are so limiting, eh?
Real talk: realizing how common it is for female characters to be punished for on-the-page sex with death was a big part of my embracing the romance genre. Once I noticed it I couldn’t unnotice it. It’s everywhere. A woman having sex in literature or non-romance genre fiction is the literary equivalent of a red shirt on Star Trek.
It’s not just the sex thing, though that’s a key element. It’s that, in romance novels, the heroine gets to be cared for the way she normally would care for everyone else. It’s wish fulfillment in that her romantic partner will do emotional labor, spend a great deal of time thinking about her, or sacrifice his desires or fortune or reputation to be with her, or spend days nursing her back to health, or risking his life to save hers. In romance novels, you’ll find men taking care of children, talking about their feelings, putting effort into their appearance—even if they are adorably bad at it. Watch how many romance novel protagonists fall in love with a man who happens to be rich or handsome, but she didn’t give in until his behavior changed and he starts mentoring her, or providing for her, or being gentle toward her, nourishing her, listening to her, appreciating her… I suspect romance novels are looked down upon not for being juvenile formulaic “beach reads” but because they paint a fantasy world that leaves men feeling uncomfortable or even emasculated. But whether you’re a Midwest housewife or a big city CEO, women who read romance novels just want to read about men loving women the way women are expected love everyone else—with a nurturing and protective form of unswerving loyalty. Great sex they don’t have to die for is also a huge bonus, but the *romance* part of the novel is genuinely more about the woman being appreciated (for her beauty or spunk or intelligence at first, and then for all of her by the end).
“women who read romance novels just want to read about men loving women the way women are expected to love everyone else—with a nurturing and protective form of unswerving loyalty.”
THANK YOU.
According to the website smartbitchestrashybooks, which analyzes romance novels to a great degree, one common element of the average romance novel is what they call the grovel. That is, there’s a turning point near the climax of the book where the leading man says, in effect, “I hurt you. I had my reasons, but they don’t make it right. I am devastated that I hurt you, and I will do whatever it takes to make it okay again. Leaving you is completely on the table even though I find the prospect horrific.”
And that’s a very important fantasy. To have your feelings, your pain, be made so absolutely central to the narrative, to someone else’s world. You could call it a power fantasy, but I don’t think that’s exactly right. It’s a significance fantasy. A romance story is a story in which the woman is the most significant damn thing in the book.
And when you think of it like that, you realize why some people are really, really threatened by it.
I will never not reblog this.
A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad
#this is team skull
The pet store I worked at had a pen with rabbits near the front door. On every side of the pen were huge signs saying “You can pet me, but don’t pick me up!” One day two absolutely huge guys came in and one immediately reaches into the pen to grab a rabbit. Before i could say anything his friend grabbed his arm and asked him “did you see the sign?” He said “yeah! it says that you can pick them up but don’t pet them!” Then he went quiet for a moment and softly said “I didn’t read it right did I?” And his friend just puts his arm on his shoulder and said “its ok, i know you’ve got that thing where words get mixed up. Let just pet these cute lil shits” And I still haven’t gotten over that interaction.
I was walking my dog through Boston bc he likes the likes car rides. He’s a little thing tbh we call him short and long. So this huge scary man with a full beard approaches me like “hey can my buddy and I pet your dog? He gets nervous around dogs but your’s is so small I think it’s a good place to start.” Ofc I was like “yes he’s very friendly!” So this guy brings his equally big friend over and they sit on the floor while this man looks terrified of my tiny dog so big man number one asks “can I pick him up?” And i say yes so he picks him up and puts him on man number two’s lap and man number two is abt to freak out and his friend straight up just goes “hey man, it’s okay just relax I’d never let anything hurt you. He’s a good boy.” I’ll never forget it ever bc I know that man looked at me (5'3 , glasses, probably wearing a sweater vest) and my dog (kinda goofy looking little thing) and was like ‘ah yes the two least intimidating living things I’ve seen in Boston all day he’ll feel relaxed around them’ and went out of his way to help his friend. It makes me so happy
I love this
I was (of course it was) in NYC at the time, riding on the R train and this burly, tall, leather and black jeans with fuck off huge steel-plated knee-highs and a fourteen foot lime green mohawk gets on the train and sit’s down, his jansport backpack making this Ghu-awful THUNK as he sets it between his feet. And no one says anything. Everyone saw him because how could you not?
And he opens his bag and starts rustling through it and sets aside some YA novel that I don’t remember but that it had this absolutely lovely lavender purple cover. and then he pulls out his fucking knitting and just goes to town. Just, minding his own business, knitting away intently, listening to his earbuds.
And wasn’t a person on that train gonna say a DAMN thing about it. No one pointed or made any comments because this dude was built to crush motherfuckers. And he was knitting in public so you know he knew no fear and was happy and confident and then this little girl walked away from her mum and walked straight up to him and waved and her mother looked surprised (but not scared, this is NYC - we don’t know fear because we’re too busy). But the guy sees this little girl wave at him and just gives her the BIGGEST SMILE and waves back and takes out an earbud and says hi and they start talking about knitting and how he learned on his own and she wanted to learn and her mother didn’t know. But he suggested that there were knitting clubs and a lot of them were free and would happily help a new little knitter like her.
It was the single most adorable and heart warming thing of my life. Like here’s this dude with a Rancid t-shirt that looks like it was probably printed in someone’s flat fifteen years ago with an anti-nazi patch right over his heart and enough metal in his clothes to be worth recycling but a little girl waved and what type of nasty, heartless fuck doesn’t smile at kids? That ain’t punk.
Used to work at a nature center, which was attached to an elementary school. Occasionally the fire alarms would go off, and for the most part, we’d all just go about our business (weekly fire drills for the kids didn’t mean that the snakes tanks didn’t need cleaning).
In the middle of one of these alarms, I had a lovely 7’ long red rat snake wrapped around me while I was cleaning up. (She was my favorite - active, but polite, never bit or struck or pulled back to threaten it, or musked me, no matter what I did with her). Of course, law of averages, there had to be one that was a “real” alarm. Bunch of big firefighters come in, demanded to know why we weren’t outside with everyone else, the work’s.
And then they started screaming.
High pitched, girly shrieks. As first one, then another, noticed I was wearing a snake.
And, of course, the screaming brought more fire fighters over, who also screamed… let’s just say I had three trucks worth of dudes gathered around me, stunned that I would -wear- a snake. Who, of course, saw new people and was doing her best to make friends.
Once the false alarm was sorted, they all came back, to a man, to meet the snakes. I had enough for each of them to “try one on.”
These big, buff dudes, who risk their lives running into raging fires without a thought, had to hype themselves up for me to put a young hog nose in their palms. Anxiety sweat dropped down their faces and soaked through their undershirts as I let the red and grey rat snakes cool around their arms. When the garden snake slipped down one guy’s collar, I thought he was going to drop dead from a heart attack, right there. But they all did it! And survived!
I just wish I’d taken pictures to show the third graders when they came in after classes finished!
I go to college early or fall semester because of marching band and so do a lot of the fall sports teams right? So I’m in line in the dining hall, waiting for some spaghetti or something and two dudes from the soccer team or football team or something are behind me, just chatting, and I’m alone so I’m lowkey eavesdropping. At some point Sports Boy 1 notices another sports boy and points out the pants he’s wearing to his friend, Sports Boy 2. And he says something along the lines of “Those were the pants I was talking about before. What do you think? Could I pull them off?” And Sports Boy 2 looks around and finds the pants Sports Boy 1 was talking about and goes “yeah I think you could pull them off,” and then he paused and almost like an afterthought said “but you know, what’s important is that you feel confident in them,”
And man I sat there so touched because like, yes bro preach that body postivity to your friend, remind him that it’s not about what other people think but how he feels.
My life to have witnessed the firefighters meeting the snakes. Bless their hearts 🤣🤣🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍
London Underground, a few years ago. Punk guy - ripped jeans, leathers, multi-coloured mohawk, facial tattoos, safety pins where they really don’t belong, bottle in hand - talking to these two googly-eyed German tourist girls. Tells them how to get to wherever they wanted to go, cool free places in the neighbourhood, what to look out for. Gets up to leave with the final warning: “Just promise me you’ll be careful who you talk to, okay? Some pretty weird people in this town.”
These are so sweet😄
This has gotten better since I last saw it.
Every time this crosses my path, it has beautiful new stories on it.
Boys will be boys (valid)
I used to have a yard sale buddy named Sonny. Big, shaved head tattooed covered battle jacketed punk dude. He liked looking for vinyl records and paper ephemera, and when we went to sales together I would keep an eye out for them for him, while he kept an eye out for vintage clothes and jewelry for me.
One weekend we were getting food at a diner after going to a couple of estate sales, and a lady with two little girls was seated at the table behind us. The two little girls saw us, went “Sonny!! HI SONNY HI HI!!” and basically started trying to climb him.
He knew them from church. Their mom was like “oh yes everyone at our church loves Sonny.”
I was just telling this story the other day, so it’s been on my mind. In college I was able to travel around Europe for a few weeks and I was going with just 2 other girls (who were even more sheltered than me!) so I did a LOT of careful planning the year before. I found us youth hostels with high ratings everywhere we went and one of the highest rated was in Lake Bled, Slovenia (that little island with a church in the middle of a lake that you see on standard computer wallpapers? That place). Well the hostel ends up being a pretty remote house located out of the city in the middle of some farmland and we three girls go hesitantly up to the door hoping we have the right place. Then this BIG somewhere between Rocky & Andre the Giant looking dude in a stained wife beater with a GIANT HOUND at his side answers the door. You have to understand, this was a few years after Taken came out and it was our first time traveling alone, so we were all internally panicking.
But he almost immediately starts apologizing - tells us he’s accidentally reserved us the biggest room (6 bunk beds for 3 girls!), but that he won’t be charging us more for the space. Also he gives us a full rundown of the city - best boat vendor to rent from (to row out to the lake island), best place to buy cake, and best place to go get pizza for dinner - which is to this day the best pizza I’ve ever eaten in my life. He was so kind and gracious - we were immediately put at ease and had a great time!
…Reblogging on a day when a lot of us could use our opinions of the General Run of Humanity improved…
listen people are starting to realize tumblr isn’t dead we all need to be as cringe as possible for the next few months, it’s vital to our survival
I love that op said “be as cringe as possible” and my main man Tumblr replied with giffs of Superwholock in that exact order. I love you all so much.
PETA just ruins everything. Can we agree?
This feels like Alaskan Parks and Rec and that’s a compliment
Thank you to the skilled journalists at the NYT for uncovering this nefarious communist plot by China: winning gold medals in the Olympics
Seriously this is taking anti-Chinese sentiments too fucking far. Of course a nation wants to win golds, what else do you think they want in the Olympics.
Some US college athletes who will never go to the Olympics went to special high schools, or were home schooled, so that they could train upwards of 8 hours a day while getting the bare minimum education required for college entry on a sports scholarship
The United States has got no business criticizing the “Chinese Sports Machine” when our high schools and universities- including ones that receive public funds- often devote as much or even more money to sports as they do education.
I’m a simple being. I see a book, I want to read it.
I buy the book. I do not read it.
Someone described themselves as not in the “supernatural fandom” but in the “supernatural fandom fandom” and I feel so seen.
certified iconic 24 hours
I fucking love this post format
‘What is Supernatural if not drama, persevering’ 🤣🤣🤣
Trying to stay safe, healthy and financially stable during a pandemic whilst also rooting for your ship to go canon
All of this delights me to no end.
…I’m actually speechless.
I wasn’t looking for any information about railroads and now I’m left with that + knowledge about spaceships, Roman chariots and one (1) unexpected but welcome joke.
I am now trying to figure out how to share this (the age-appropriate parts) with my middle school history students. What a great chain of facts!
— Anyway, happy new year. — And you. 🌠
If you’re an adult, do the stuff you couldn’t as a kid.
Like, me and my sister went to a museum, and they had an extra exhibit of butterflies. But it cost £3. So we sighed, walked past, then stopped. We each had £3. We could see the butterflies. And we did it was great. We followed it up with an ice-cream as well because Mum and Dad weren’t there to say no.
I was driving back from a work trip with 2 other people in their early 20s, and we drove past a MacDonalds. One of the others went “Aww man, I’d love a McFlurry.” And the guy driving pulled in to the drive through. It was wild. But it was great.
I went to a park over the weekend and I was thinking “Man, I’d love to hire one of those bikes and cycle round the park.” It took me a few minutes to go “Wait, I can hire one of those bikes!”
I guess what I’m saying is, those impulsive things you wanted to do as a kid - see the dinosaur exhibit, play in the fountains with the other kids, lie in the shade for 2 hours - you can do when you’re an adult. You have to deal with a whole lot of other bull, but at least you can indulge your inner 8 year-old.
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