But I hope I'm wrong!

You are. That's a Victorian boot-scraper, to scrape the mud off your boots before you go inside a building.

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

The Fair Folk: “I can’t believe this. Twenty years I’ve cleaned your house and you DARE to try to REPAY me with GIFTS. This is such an insult. Fuck you, you insolent humans. I’m leaving here and never returning because you have insulted me so deeply.”

Also the Fair Folk: “Remember that one time you pulled a thorn out of a cat’s foot? That was me. To show my gratitude, here is a house made of solid gold, a life-debt, my daughter’s hand in marriage, and a promise that all your children will be gorgeous and successful at all that they do. I can also throw in a blow job if you want. I hope this is enough. I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”

ship are you making a callout post for faeries

#now to be fair #i have always interpreted this dichotomy as#you can leave them gifts #but not as repayment#because otherwise you’re just paying them to clean your house#and so the insult is to imply that they are servants performing labor for compensation#when in reality they are Magnanimous Bros#totally just cleaning your nasty house out of the goodness of their good good hearts#and if you want to also be a bro #and give them some uncurdled milk and honey#that’s cool because that’s what bros do#but if you’re like ‘here’s some food for cleaning my house’ it’s like #EXCUSE ME#ARE YOU IMPLYING THAT YOU’RE ONLY GIVING ME THIS BECAUSE I DID SOMETHING FOR YOU#WHAT KIND OF FRIEND ARE YOU#FUCK OFF WITH THAT THEN I THOUGHT WE WERE BROS

This is the quality content I look for on my dash

The only bro code worth following.

i had three fic ideas.  wrote one.  i still have three fic ideas.  this is not how math is supposed to work.

can this post please back up it’s too close to home

I had five ideas, I wrote two, now I have seven

Listen. They’re called “plot bunnies” for a reason, and it’s not just because they hop around all over your brain demanding attention.

🎶99 fanfic ideas on my blog

99 fanfic ideas~

Take one down, pass it around

137 fanfic ideas on my blog🎶

this post walked into my house and kicked in my ribs

For anyone who ever asked me where ideas come from. They creep in and breed when you’re making something else.

One time I went to Ren Faire and there was an Aziraphale and Crowley and Crowley offered me an apple and it made my entire life and I still think about that and am filled with such joy at that random occurrence and they probably have no idea.

The moral of the story is you probably have no idea how happy you've made a perfect stranger just by living your life and expressing your own joy for something.

The other moral of the story is if you've ever gone to Ren Faire dressed as Aziraphale and/or Crowley you're really cool and I wish you well.

Kind of hard to believe there was once a time where a legitimate genre of post was "my mom says if this gets 2k notes she'll buy me a doughnut" and everyone would just. go ham

I vote we revive this shit.

Y’all, if this post gets 2k notes I’ll buy my own damned self a doughnut.

Y’know what? Yes. If this hits 24k by the time I wake up on 21 June 2023, I’ll get myself a dozen. And a big ol’ coffee to go with them.

There's a mistake I see a lot of people in the mental health community make and in all honesty, it's one I've made myself. But I think we should really work on it. And that's saying "if this were a physical illness, wouldn't you care?"

I've learned that no actually, people wouldn't care. Katelyn Weinstein (theADHDprincess on Twitter) is a neurodiversity acceptance activist who really put this in perspective for me. She said that it's actually more an issue of longevity than physical vs mental health.

If you're having a bad day people will generally be understanding. But when you're experiencing chronic depression and you have many bad days people lose sympathy.

In the same respect people may be understanding when you've broken a bone that will heal properly or when you have a cold that will go away soon in ways they simply won't understand when you have chronic pain or need to use a wheelchair. They may send chicken soup for a temporary situation, but when you need consistent accomodations it's an entirely different story.

I understand that from our perspective it looks like people care more about physical health than mental health, but it's good to remember that our own perspective is also limiting. Facing ableism doesn't mean you can't be ableist. And I know so many people are not ill-intentioned when they say this. I know I wasn't. But we can't discount the lived experiences of physically disabled people. If we want true equality we need to be united and we need to listen to those with physical disabilities and illnesses. And those with physical disabilities and illnesses (some of which are also invisible) have said that they are not given proper accomodations either.

So let's be united and fight for equality and accomodations for everyone, no matter what their illness or disability may be.

Just read a perfectly fine fanfiction that took place in Germany but something that stood out to me was a chapter where the characters walk across a field and is approached by the farmer yelling at them to get off his land.

I’ve come across this plot point a few times and I feel like it’s worth telling writers that most of Europe has some version of Right To Roam. The laws aren’t the same in every country but generally you’re allowed to walk and rest on private property like fields and forests so long as you don’t destroy crops or leave trash, but not gardens or fenced in areas. Depending on the country you also have the right to pick mushrooms, berries, nuts and other edible things in forests but without chopping trees down or breaking branches. The owner of the land might put up a sign asking you to follow certain guidelines like no horses or keeping your dog on a leash but but there’s no real repercussions to not following the rules besides the owner eventually fencing the area off so people can’t enjoy it anymore.

I’ve personally walked around on a field while the farmer was harvesting potatoes with his big ass machine and collected the leftovers while my dog was trotting calmly besides me and he looked straight at me and didn’t care one bit because Denmark also has an old tradition of letting people collect what’s left as a form of charity (for my fellow Danes, that’s what “rev vi marken let, det er gammel ret, fuglen og den fattige skal også være mæt” means in the song Marken Er Mejet) This is just a tradition and not a law however so it depends on the farmer.

The very north of Europe like Norway and Sweden even give people the right to put up tents and camp on other people’s private land (except gardens and such). Again, the laws vary from country to country but as a rule of thumb you have more right to roam the further north you go and less the further south but if you want to write in a specific country look up the laws there.

One thing I really love about Good Omens

So many people can see themselves and their struggles reflected in the show.

Aziraphale and Crowley’s love conflicting with their religion resonated with me, as someone trying to reconcile sexuality and faith.

Many ace/non-binary people can also see themselves reflected.

Crowley changing his name was something transgender people could relate to. (Also, the show just fucks with gender in every way possible and I love that)

I’ve seen so many posts about how Aziraphale and Crowley could also represent neurodivergence, seeing the world differently and being judged because of it.

Aziraphale helping people to love their bodies and not feel self conscious about eating/enjoying food.

Anathema’s plotline about being who you want to be instead of your family’s expectations.

I’ve even seen people talk about how they’re wearing sunglasses all the time for medical reasons (concussions, etc.) and that Crowley made them feel less self-conscious about it.

So many elements of Good Omens are wonderful, but what’s even better is the effect that it’s had on people. Because at its core, it’s a story about humanity and choice and acceptance. And that’s why I love it so much.

@neil-gaiman did that actually happen to you? Pretty funny nevertheless

It did. Although it was in the advanced readers copy of Neverwhere, so we caught it before it went out to the public. Universal Find and Replace is never your friend.

This is so wholesome

Update: he finally got the cat to the vet to see if she had a microchip

I was already on board with his sweet wholesome open-to-love-and-nurturing heart but I was fully unprepared for getting to that last tweet and seeing how off the hook HOT dude is

https://twitter.com/pariszarcilla?lang=en heres his twitter is here there is also additonal cat photos of his children. 

CAT DAD IS BACK

aww, the kids grow up so fast. ;-;

HHHHHHHH I LOVE CAT DAD!

This is, by far, the single most adorable fucking thing I have ever seen. 

update:

I love that he kept …. All of them.

I’ve reblogged the earlier part of this thread before, and the new stuff makes it even better.

This is the Tumblr equivalent of a warm hug on a cold day.

You’re welcome.

I remember this thread, but I never saw the grown-up pics ❤

@every-n-anything

All hail Catdad

I saw Catdad for the first time today, and my day instantly became exponentially better.

I’M CRYING!?

CATDAD HAS REVIVED MY WILL TO LIVE

I live for cat dad-

Cat dad has saved us all

CAT DAD!!

I had not seen the updates. I am so happy that the Cat Gods smiled upon this person and their new family :)

He’s got more recent pictures (and is also an INCREDIBLE artist), but this is the fam circa May 2020 :>

Cat Dad is a perennial reblog.

@taylorswiftfever C A T S

Happy Friday!

—mod Nick

And in case you think he’s only this cute with cats, think again:

This only ever gets more wholesome. Will forever reblog #catdad ❤️

I’ve read the cutest fic ever by @toedenandbackagain and decided to draw a comic based on it! Please, read it:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840567

Our trailer for Good Omens Season 2 has just been released. It is moderately entertaining and may help pass a couple of otherwise uneventful minutes.

Wahoo!!

A leucistic moose filmed by municipal councilmember Hans Nilsson in the Värmland region of Sweden (2017) National Geographic

@elodieunderglass

same energy

there’s more

SIGH

here’s another one

IT GETS WORSE WITH EVERY ADDITION

how does this get even worse

I think about once in a while…

We have another one…

This is the internet now tho 😭💀

@lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime @marril96 @latent-thoughts @suometar

😂😂😂

Omg so many additions since I last saw this post! 😂😂😂

It’s funny but incredibly telling how entitled/ignorant/insensitive some of these people are… idk if it’s an education gap or purposeful ignorance.

The really bewildering thing to me is that I remember when you needed to get up and pull a dictionary off the shelf, or visit a library to look up the facts you needed. Now people have all kinds of information literally at their fingertips and they can’t be bothered to use it.

Oh dear gods, it’s gotten worse

When you know politics but no facts

don’t take people too seriously on the internet

This hits different when combined with that “Americans don’t learn other countries exist till they’re in 5th Grade” post from the other day.

Demily recently got another one lads

Also, I love that, in the sign language one, it seems like the last image might’ve been a gif of “fuck you,” screenshot at the perfect time to let you know they were about to sign “fuck you”

As a romanian person I gotta add this one too

This is my favourite post on this website

I have literally had people tell me that I’m a gross appropriator for learning sign language while not deaf.

I sometimes cannot speak, but leaving that aside, what the FUCK lol

I still remember the guy who got mad at me because I spoke about the cultural role of the Norse gods in my life and my culture and insisted that I should be “proud of my Christian heritage instead” and quite simply would not believe me when I told him I was from Scandinavia because “that doesn’t exist anymore.”

someone please edit that map of europe with the spain void to also have a void for the whole of scandinavia

Every now and then I just have to reblog this.

(while particularly loving: “Gender of the Day: Wales”)

(also “Port O’Rico”)

I will never not reblog this! 😂😂😂