Sirius Black was the calm before the storm, that sharp intake of breath, the intoxicating feeling of euphoria as you throw your middle finger up in the air and scream fuck the world! He was leather jackets and bruised knuckles. The telltale muted thrum as you pass a concert venue. He was all about soft moans and gentle touches behind closed doors. The pale curve of a back against worn out sheets, innocent and challenging at the same time. Grey eyes that could burn your eyes and lips that could soothe the aches of a bad night. He was dangerously proud and confident but ridiculously understanding and loyal. Sirius Black was a contradiction in every sense of the word.
Remus Lupin was the smell of earth after rain, the warmth you feel when you hold a cup of cocoa on a cold night, the thrill that runs down your spine each time you enter a library and the comfort of sweater paws. He was also a hurricane when he was writhing in the sheets, silver scars glowing something fierce against soft skin. A mouth full of lightning that looks like sin but feels like heaven, with fingertips that drew lines of fire down a lover’s throat, thin hips with edges that could cut but instead, tasted of the sweetest things and a smattering of freckles in between his shoulder blades that spelled out hope, love and something that was a little too wild to comprehend. Remus Lupin was the boy who refused to give up on a world that gave up on him.
Maggie Lindemann’s song ‘Pretty Girl’ is so good, I’ve been listening to it over and over! So, because I’m completely obsessed I had to make it today’s quote of the day… “I keep up with the guys. And you see me holding up my middle finger to the world. Fuck your ribbons and your pearls. ‘Cause I’m not just a pretty girl” I really like the 'I don’t care what you think’ attitude, go listen now 💪🏼💃🏻🔥😍
The aye-aye (Daubentonia madagascariensis) is a lemur, a strepsirrhineprimate native to Madagascar that combines rodent-like teeth that perpetually grow and a special thin middle finger. It is the world’s largest nocturnal primate, and is characterized by its unusual method of finding food; it taps on trees to find grubs, then gnaws holes in the wood using its forward slanting incisors to create a small hole in which it inserts its narrow middle finger to pull the grubs out. This foraging method is called percussive foraging which takes up 5-41% of foraging time. The only other animal species known to find food in this way is the striped possum. From an ecological point of view the aye-aye fills the niche of a woodpecker, as it is capable of penetrating wood to extract the invertebrates within.
I’d kill to see big girls romantisized in the same way on this website. I want big girls in bigger sweaters reading in coffee shops. I want thick fingers with delicate rings and beautiful full faces smirking sexily. I want chubby girls with flowers in their hair and nose piercings. I want big girls in little shorts, rocking the worlds socks off with their middle finger held high and i want six different comments raving about how fucking good these girls look.
“Dark, depressing, and dysfunctional in a pointless way.”
“When the only character who is decipherable is the autistic mute, we have a problem.”
“If I have to be all ‘literary’ to appreciate and understand this book, then I don’t want to be literary.”
“This is Faulkner giving the middle finger to the world.”
“if you actually know what’s going on … email me. please.”
“I can’t tell you any spoilers about this book because I have no f***ing idea what it was about.”
“I’m sure there was a classic story about a tragic Southern family in this book…somewhere.”
“Life is too short to be tortured by a book.”
“Reminds me of Pollock’s paintings. Chimps could do it but we’re told it’s genius.”
“If not for a small cabal of disingenuous literature professors this would have taken its rightful place in the trash bin of history long ago.”
And maybe my favorite one-star review ever:
“I would like to build a time machine for the sole purpose of traveling back in time to kick Faulkner in the nuts. In fact, that’s probably proof that time travel is not possible; if it were, he would have suffered an endless stream of strangers sneaking up on him and kicking him in the nuts.”
y’all be like “if the real Percival Graves was found he’d be bitter and angry as fuck and ready to hunt and kill Grindelwald” but like fam. imagine. what if he doesn’t want to ? primo, because he’s fought grindelwald, okay, he’s had enough, he knows what the man is capable of, fuck this bitch, he’s not very fond of gratuitous pain, alright. he’s done. segundo because NO. ONE. at the MACUSA noticed it wasn’t him. And fuck this, but he’s not going to keep working for a bunch of idiots who clearly don’t give a single shit about his case.
Nah mate. If Percival Graves is found, and as soon as he can walk, he’s going to kick the door to the President’s office, drop a resignation letter on her desk, don a Hawaiian shirt with very bright flowers, sunglasses, give her the middle finger and apparate the fuck to the other side of the world. let them deal with the other douche. He is going to relax and enjoy life. He’s out.
I have always been tortured for my hair. I’ve been wearing my hair “natural” for most of my life. (There was a brief stint where I actually would wake up and hour earlier before school to flat iron the shit- but by the time I got to college I got smart- fuck that, I’d rather sleep.) The fact that these type of curls are “trendy” now is almost mind boggling to me since when I was growing up, it didn’t exist. I was the only one I knew of. There were no references on tv, in movies or around me… this “TYPE” hadn’t been established yet… which is probably why I eventually started dying it bright colors. It became my big middle finger to the world for people trying to make me feel bad about the way I look. The moral of this story is: If you are going to stare at me… I am going to give you something to stare at.
Pix by Yassir Ketchum, Rock-Metal Inc + River Clark