#I think it's allowed

[laurasimonsdaughter]

By the shore there once lived a fisherwoman and her wife. Together they had three children, each as beloved as the other. They were a sweet sight to behold. The eldest had hair the colour of chestnut, that flowed like waves. The middle one had hair the colour of mahogany, that fell down in ringlets. And the youngest had hair like ebony, that curled straight upwards.

All their days their mothers had kept careful watch over them, but one evening, when the fisherwoman had not yet returned from the open sea, her wife received an urgent message calling for her assistance. There was nothing to depend on if not the help of kind neighbours, so the woman called her children inside, drew all the curtains, and told them to stay within for as long as she was gone.

“For it will be a dark night, but a clear one,” she warned. “And you will surely end up elf-shot or pixie-led if you go out in the gloaming.”

All three of them promised faithfully not to set a foot out of doors and their mother quickly set off to be of help to her neighbour.

For a while the three children were content within, but the further the sun sank below the horizon, the more restless they became. At last the eldest could take it no longer.

“I shall only draw back one of the curtains,” he said, and all three of them crowded around the window to look.

Outside the sky had slowly turned to dark velvet and since no moon rose to light it, far before true darkness had come the shimmering pinpricks of stars appeared. The whole world seemed to glisten in soft grey and it was not long before the second of them grew twice as restless as before.

“I will only open the window,” they said, and all three of them leaned against the windowsill to breathe in the night air.

But never had the gentle wind smelled so sweet and it was not long before the youngest could no longer contain herself.

“I will only go and sit on the windowsill,” she said, but no sooner had she let her legs dangle over the side or her siblings came to join her. And once they were all there, staring up at the sky with the wind in their hair and the distant rush of the sea in their ears, it did not take long until they slid off the windowsill and jumped to the ground.

“We shall not go up to the cliffs,” they told each other. “Nor inland towards the moors. We shall only go to see the sea and then straight back again.”

After all, they would be back before their mother ever knew they were gone, and they would have done so without ever setting a foot out the door.

Gaily they ran down to the shore, where the stars hung lower above the waves than they had ever seen. White mist danced above the water, and the sea foam danced as if rising to meet it. Amidst all this splendour, they suddenly heard the soft sound of hooves and from across the starlit beach, a beautiful pony pranced towards them.

The children gasped and cried in delight. They had never seen any animal half as beautiful. Its coat was as dark as the dusk and its eyes were like shimmering pools. And it came towards them quite as if to befriend them.

“I want to ride it!” the middle child exclaimed in raptures and they eagerly rushed forward.

“No, I get to ride it!” the eldest insisted.

“No I want to!” the youngest cried.

“Then you ride behind me,” the middle one said boldly and they caught the pony, as gentle and willing as a steed could possibly be, by its long black manes.

“There will not be room for all of us on its back!” the eldest protested.

But as soon as his sibling had scrambled up the pony’s back, it was clear there was plenty of room for him left. And once he was seated astride behind them, even though it had not seemed like a large animal at all, there was precisely enough room for their little sister to join them.

So laughing and hooting they all climbed onto the pony’s back. “Giddy-up! Giddy-up!” they cried. “Ride on!”

But the pony did not trot down the beach from whence it came. It turned and tossed its manes and galloped straight for the sea.

The children screamed, but no matter how they struggled, they were incapable of dismounting. The animal’s slick coat suddenly stuck like tar and the louder they screamed, the faster it ran. There was no glee in the children now, but all the more in the creature, for kelpies delight in their cruel games. Neighing and whinnying it rushed towards the waves, but with only seven strides away from the foaming tide the youngest of the children cried:

“Your pocket knife! Take your pocket knife!”

And quick as a fox she grabbed her own little knife from her skirt pocket and cut through the cloth so that it ripped and tore and she was free. Her brother and sibling followed suit and one after the other they tumbled off the speeding creature’s back, with only the fabric of their clothes left behind as the kelpie plunged screaming into the waves.

The mist whirled and the sea broiled and then there was nothing left to be seen, but the children did not stand to look. They ran, breathless and wide-eyed, hearts pounding and feet flying, all the way back to their home.

There they found their mother, pale with worry. And so glad was she to see them all safe and sound that she did not even scold them for going out into such a dangerous night, nor for tearing all their pretty clothes.

For the rest of their lives, those three children watched the waves for a sign of the kelpie, but not a trace of it could be found. Not a hoof print in the sand, not a strand of midnight mane, not even a whisper on the cold sea breeze.

[hoaxghost]

Girl failed the med school exam like 8 times I dont think she'd do all too well when faced with the burnt crisp of her captain

[lordgroose]

my favorite work memory from this store will always be “hey remember when the subway inside the store closed down and they let me take a bunch of their shit for free and now it lives inside my house?”

my life is a joke

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[cardentist]

people on twitter freaking the hell out because rebecca sugar drew a comic of pearl and greg having a messy situationship in the aftermath of rose dying wasn't on my 2024 bingo card if I'm being honest

even Less so because the thing they're apparently mad about is that the nonbinary alien rock was supposed to be a lesbian (as if there's anything wrong with a nonbinary alien rock being bisexual, Or that lesbian can't have a situationship with a man without still being a lesbian on the other side.)

anyways, may take on it is: you don't have to consider any of rebecca sugar's sketches "canon," because it's not actually in the source material. rebecca may have a strong influence on how the fandom sees the characters but it does Not actually change the show. so getting worked up about it in the first place is ridiculous.

That Said, it kinda works with whatever they had going on in the show if I'm being honest

[buzzrds]

here's my wonderful isopod child, handcrafted in leather

[meanbossart]

(proceeds to fix him)

[pangur-and-grim]

.....Belphie and Pangur are chasing each other and wrestling without any growling!! true friends? playing happily? a 12 year old and a 10 month old?

[girlsloveupdates]

Everyone wants toxic yuri and complex female characters until the yuri is toxic and the female characters are complex :(

[betrixxxed]

she said 👁️👁️

[demadogs]

nothing can break the bond between a friend who loves spoilers and a friend who just watched an amazing show and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish

[dinderbins]

This is my favorite character, Drugs. She's on some hideous cocktail of hallucinogens and is very gender.

[too-antigonish]

Oh. A new-to-me gifset.

Shaun Evans explains his new moustache - Endeavour

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Brucie Wayne gets into a mild accident in public (read-got hit by a car). And Batman would just walk it off (“it’s barely a bruise”), but Brucie obviously… can’t.

So he has to suffer the ordeal of having civilians call paramedics, getting fussed over, and having-

Having his dead son get into the back of the ambulance with him.

Oh- oh no. He must have hit his head worse than he thought. He thought he was past this…

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[mangozic]

the wettest of cats