#and then less than 24 hours after that

[inkskinned]

we heard that you were very disappointed in us both as a generation and specifically as a generation of women (emphasis yours), how we had let ourselves go and now we were slutty and ill-tempered and holding onto notions of feminism like "having a savings account" and "equality."

we were very sorry about it, we didn't realize. it is very hard for you, in your life, because your entire definition was centered around the word providing, and that's a really vague and undulating word. it is hard to be a provider. for your purposes, the word provider here can be defined as "having a job", although it sometimes also extends to "doing yard work", "grilling on occasion," and "knowing basic car anatomy."

we had to do some reading but we divided it out. do not worry. high-value women will fill in the rest of the gaps of your life - all those silly feminine things like doing the dishes. we didn't realize we had asked too much when we asked you to pick up after yourself. we did not realize you were rendered small and scared and crying about the possibility of doing the laundry. here is a joke to lighten the sentiment: a man that listens when you talk to him.

we heard about how we had fallen from glory and it sickened us and made us very, very sad. lindsey had to cut all her hair off and tara threw up. we lit one million candles and we are going to have a vigil about it tonight. all of the people in this world that you do not approve of are going to be there and we will all be in mourning colors because we have lost your respect which is of course the only thing that any of us were looking for.

we searched around our bedrooms and our closets and for some of us it took a while but we all found the pricetag that we were originally born with, the one that gave our listing offer, the one that smells like rot and pine needles. we were horrified because many of us had taken deductions and hadn't realized it. i had scraped my knees and decided to be a lesbian so they had to take my voicebox out so i could never call home again. janice had been with too many people overall so we had to put her into the big squisher that will hopefully collapse her walls so that when you're with her, you'll feel so big and powerful. it will be like you're conquering something instead of being close with someone.

we are all going to the funeral of feminism and we will tear at our bodies and fall over ourselves. we will invite you onstage for a live recording of your podcast about the occasional minor inconvenience of self-reflection. you will talk about how we have targeted you and made you feel the sweat slick down your back, and we will teach you basic self-defense out of solidarity.

do not worry, we are seeing to all the outliers. taylor asked to be taken seriously so we have shipped her off to prison. laura asked you to accept her femininity regardless of her presentation. you will be happy to hear all women are now and forever going to have to be small and thin and pretty and white and ablebodied and quiet and unassuming and ladylike, which is different than how society has previously told us to act.

i am going to have to shave off my jawline, which is a little masculine, and they are going to have to reshape my hands, which are very square and thick - all the work i've done with them has made their veins stand out, so we're just going to have to exsanguinate me. i am horrified to have been out in public like this.

we are going to sit around the campfire and we will talk about being weird little girls that made potions in pink teacups. we will talk about the first time we made a difference. we will talk about the private lives of crickets, and then, at the stroke of three in the morning (the witching hour, obviously) - we will all promptly shut up.

and this will be your beautiful world. this silence that spans every corner of every street and every zoom meeting and every alley. i do not think you'll notice at first - it will be the same as every television show and movie and book. we will all just simply sit there in our doll dresses and smile blithely at your advances and none of us will do you the dishonor of answering and none of us will appear to be in distress and none of us will nag you or make a fuss or get hysterical about it. it will just be quiet, and you will say finally, some peace for once! and we will smell of smoke and our teeth will be white and the next day will come.

tonight we are going to bury the last little bits of our humanity. you are not invited. it is going to be ugly.

[wizardlyghost]

[fairyroses]

I know what you're thinking. That you've given in to your son again? That you're spoiling him? Exactly. And I can certainly understand how you reach that conclusion. But the thing is... this tree is for me!

— SMALLVILLE, "Lexmas" (5.09)

[jessamine-rose]

…….do y’all want to guess what was my first brainrot this year?? Ykw f*ck it, this might as well be my first post for 2024 (*⁰▿⁰*)

Capitano and Damsel sharing a kiss when the clock strikes midnight. Damsel watching the fireworks, unaware that her husband’s eyes are fixed on her awestruck expression. Capitano kneeling before Damsel to kiss her hand and promise another year of happiness—

[cyberpunkboytoy]

If anyone wants to look at the full outfit for Rei's SSR....here you go

[thestoriesthatweweave]

"It's three seasons old, at least," said Phillip, in a pained voice. "What sort of provincial backwater did you buy it in?" "The Little Dover Dress Shop." Visander bit out each word, fuming that he knew the answer. "It still has an empire waist," said Phillip, a kind of agony on his face. "You know, here we have fashion, we don't just go about wearing robes for ten thousand years." "I care nothing for your human fashions, worm," spat Visander.

Dark Heir by CS Pacat is a comedy. Or, in other words: if book 3 is not a married-life sit-com between Phillip and Visander I riot.

(In other, other words: there are so many fantastic romantic dynamics in this book, but the one couple I have imprinted on like a baby duckling is the queer murder-machine with tunnel vision stuck in the body of a Victorian ingénue and his husband Who Really Does Not Want To Be Here and can endure his wife being "a dead man from a defunct world" but draws the line at him not dressing for dinner.)

[moderndaypandora]

Got tagged by @notallsandmen for a WIP paragraph game, and I’m incredibly flattered, considering ... this doesn’t feel on the level of fic, this is fun little sketches of dialogue at most. But this is what I had, so here’s more of the mortal dreamling silliness (previous bits: modern day mortal dreamling and newlyweds with ravens)

How Hob asked Johanna to be his witness for his wedding:

He texted her asking if she was free that afternoon, because he needed her for something.  Historically "something" has meant anything from "taste-testing 3 different scone recipe variations to figure out the best one" to "hustling drunk pricks at darts". Likewise, Hob has done her favors ranging from picking up tampons to providing an alibi. In theory there is a ledger of favors owed, but in reality there will never be a balancing of books (because they're best friends, even if Johanna is too prickly to admit it and Hob is too smart to).

Johanna texted back "yeah, what's up?", and practically broke a land speed record pressing "Call" when she got the response.

Johanna: what the fuck kind of text exchange is confirming I'm around and then sending "getting married today, hello, witness!" and a selfie of you and some goth twink?

Hob: it felt pretty self-explanatory

Johanna: last I'd checked, you weren't even seeing anybody!

Hob: things change?

Johanna: I got dinner with you 5 weeks ago, you bastard, and you were single then.

Hob: ... things change fast?

Johanna: how the fuck did you even meet him?

Hob: I was running back from class during that awful rainstorm last month, and he was just outside my tube station.

Johanna: Hob.

Hob: His umbrella'd broken and he was soaking wet, and he looked absolutely miserable, poor darling.

Johanna: ...

Hob: So I offered him towels and dry clothes, since my flat was just up the road. And by the time the rain stopped I knew I wanted to marry him, and he said yes.

Johanna: what lunatic just follows strange men home?

Hob: he was pretty suspicious until I gave him my phone so he could text my address to his sister.

Johanna: and she was somehow fine with it, like 'yeah, go on'?


Hob:

Hob: he got a bit distracted by my phone background and never actually texted her.

Johanna: the fuck

Hob: you know Julian of Norwich is gorgeous

Johanna: your cat is a lesser demon escaped from hell. I'm going to exorcise your cat someday

Hob: Jules is a sweetheart. She doesn't even hunt birds!

Johanna: That thing won't kill any of the bloody birds in your neighborhood because she's saving all her energy to someday murder me and you know it.

Hob: ... undeserved paranoia about my extremely photogenic cat aside --

Johanna: WELL-deserved!

Hob: --will you be my witness?

Johanna: Left it a bit late, if you're asking me today. Did everybody else say no?

Hob: Didn't ask anybody else. Been planning to ask you since Dream said yes, but I figured if I gave you too much notice you'd flee the country.

Johanna: [tearing up, because even if you're an independent badass, it's nice to hear you're somebody's person] you're fucking right I would.

(Johanna's custom ringtone on Hob's phone is from Sweeney Todd, the final verse in Johanna where you can hear the body drop ("Wake up, Johanna, another bright red day"), because Hob and Johanna are black-hearted bastards/absolutely in cahoots with each other and think it’s funny. Hob's ringtone is Being Alive from Company ("Somebody need me too much...").  Sondheim all the way, motherfuckers)

[quarterprioritymidnight]

[hella1975]

just think this time tomorrow ill be publicly indecent in a spoons somewhere. i am so strong

[drinkcrywrite]

Buddie is simultaneously the fastest and slowest burn relationship ever

[mickimomo]

Hear me out:

Attuma singing Die For You by the Weeknd to Okoye in the rain after getting in a really bad argument that gets him kicked out.

And maybe he goes above and beyond and has a few of his soldiers singing the chorus with him so that it sounds like an angel choir and it echoes throughout all of Wakanda.

He's hitting all the high notes and everything.

And it sounds so fucking good that Okoye has to open her window and she's just like- 😳 That's my man.

And of course Aneka has the whole thing recorded and she's dancing in the background with M'Baku and Ayo because she had him listen to the entire Starboy album while they were on patrol the other day. 🤣

Y'all need me to write a little blurb of my idea out like last time with W'Kabi? I need to know if you can see it.

[trans-xianxian]

AKHDMCUKSNDM Hours after essentially giving up on getting an education job I got an email back for a position I applied to literally yesterday?? which would be an after school teacher at a private school in the richy rich part of town which is actually so so funny to me but well. it's a job

[jamiesfootball]

🌹🌹🌹

More from the the 5+1 jamie falling asleep pavlovian fic because I am on a roll today:

He was walking with his niece.

Phoebe, Kokoruda, that weird girl with the braids, they all skipped along in front of him. Phoebe looked like Phoebe, but his mind said no, she's older now, and so she was. Fresh into her teens. Having fun with her friends. Not needing Roy, but Roy standing sentry all the same.

They were on a field trip. More kids huddled close, ones he didn't recognize, and adults flanked the perimeter as they walked down the street. When Roy looked behind him he saw the team but not the team. They looked like kids to him, painfully young and fresh without the pains of life yet clinging to their bones. They tagged along behind him like a school of fish, and they pushed and shoved and shouted and kicked a football between them and did all the things that kids should do.

At his left, his sister walked next to him. She looked the way she had when Roy helped move her into her rooms at university. Her hair frizzy with tight curls just like his, styled in a way she hadn't worn in years but that was forever burned into Roy's memories of her growing up. She still had the small gap between her front teeth that Roy had paid to have fixed.

His sister watched over Phoebe the same way that Roy watched over her, and Phoebe, and the idiots trailing after him, and Roy was every age and no age, always and always watching out for the people around him.

They crossed a skinny bridge. Someone was missing.

Roy twisted his head, trying to count the faces staring back at him, but in his heart he knew who the troublemaker was.

[bluesidedown]

hnggghhggg

[kissofthemuses]

I was joking when I asked @cupcaketrickster CR support group when.

But uh, it's not feeling like a joke anymore. 😭

[spocksgotemotions]

I’m not gonna complain about my vacation, I am determined to have a lovely time. But I’m gonna say it. Airports are an exercise in humiliation and I’m not into it