#stop the British from coming

[stari-hun]

OH GOD IF THE STORM KEEPS GOING DOES THAT MEAN AMERICA IS GONNA DISAPPEAR?

[quatregats]

Also minor and likely underinformed complaint but for all that I absolutely love the dynamic in "The Frogs and the Lobsters" I do think it completely erases and simplifies the politics of Brittany at that time and place

[butterflieswhisper]

tori sitting on the stairs is so. the lighting in heartstopper is awesome big fan of the blue/orange. is tori also depressed in the show i still think it would be so fucking funny to offhandedly mention her school burning down

[purpurussy]

Ok I'm sorry but why do native english speakers always refer to € as euro? it's euros omg like 5€ = 5 euros not 5 euro. Euro is the currency, euros is the monetary units. That's like someone saying 30 dollar instead of 30 dollars, for example.

I am a native English speaker technically, but I've lived in the Netherlands for most of my life so there's a caveat. I grew up speaking British English, but now my English has become very Americanized since American English is used internationally more (I almost never use British slang any more for example since nobody understands that shit outside the UK lmao) and obviously there's a big Dutch influence in the way I speak English too (I often speak dunglish more than anything when I'm talking to Dutch speakers)

I think from what I've seen English and American people tend to say "euros" plural, since you'd also say "pounds" and "dollars". I think Irish people often say "euro" singular, but correct me if I'm wrong. So it varies. I think the reason I say "euro" is because of the Dutch influence: in Dutch you'd always say "euro" singular when referring to the price of something. So a Dutch person would absolutely say "5 euro" instead of "5 euros" (I actually just checked my tags on the post where I was talking about currency and I switched back and forth in those tags lmao that's just how it is)

I don't think there's an objectively correct way to say it, and honestly I don't really care if "euro" singular is incorrect lol you understand what I'm saying so I think it's fine

[ei-mugi]

one time i was talking to my american online friends about stuff and i was like "haha yeah people always say i look ambiguously european but cant place what i am specifically" and they were like "i dont think europeans have a look though." what do you mean. you dont believe different ethnic features exist...?

[thedevotionaltour]

i havent even read enough gl to justify the feelings and emotions i have about kyle i just have the lovers heart and also something wrong with me. and my projection. in my mind he's just like me. and he would have loved college vending machine frozen cheeseburger and heating it up in the microwave at 1 in the morning because he was bored and didn't want to work on a drawing assignment on 20" x 30" paper that was due tomorrow in his freshman year. he would have loved going to the club to push off finals work that's creating the worst stress known to man in his brain. and he would love to annoy the fuck out of his roommate when high and avoiding homework on a saturday.

[norrussells]

just a random thought but i always found it odd thst max fans champion around the nickname "mad max" that he himself dislikes being used, mostly because it was given to him by esteban ocon. it is a nickname that has carried with him since birth but only really came into fruition since he entered f1. i know that verstappies support the "crashtappen" agenda and want him to be a 'dirty' driver as a means for entertainment but funny enough, max completely refutes this time and time again. he can never prove himself to be a clean and hard but fair racer to critics because his own fandom champion that he should be the opposite.

it shouldn't have to be said but i am not painting all verstappies with a brush, everyone has their own opinions. but i do wonder how many watch for the legitimacy of the sport or just want to see max completely reject the rulebook for the fun of it. the image and reputation of max will be directly bastardised by his own fandom.

[raeofgayshine]

Wish there was a way to begin to explain what happened tonight during stream because there’s some kind of gold in Jim thinking that Riddler is fairy (like tinkerbell) but everyone else just thinks he’s calling Ed a slur and the pipeline it leads down, connecting to Bruce thinking babies come from kissing, all the way to Jim asking Ed and Oswald if Tim was “their fairy baby and Tim telling Steph “I think Jim just called me a fairy.” Steph: “sorry you had to find out this way, but we all kind of knew.”

[magentagalaxies]

hey so i'm not making a DNI because i don't want to (i initially had a longer attempt at articulating a reason and then i realized i don't have to explain more than "i don't want to") but the past few blogs that have followed me are very harry pottter focused and given the actions and rhetoric of jk rowling i'd appreciate it if any blogs who prominently post harry potter themed content would kindly refrain from following me.

you can probably still reblog my posts, not bc of my moral stance but bc honestly i don't really notice who reblogs from me unless they have a huge red flag in their url, but in terms of following my blog i'd prefer it if harry potter bloggers could just not

and i know there's always the excuse of separating the art from the artist (like people who continue to post about harry potter but end every post with "fuck jkr tho"), and not everyone even knows why jkr is a horrible person bc a lot of the discussion is very online (that's the reason this is worded so empathetically, i'm assuming harry potter fans who follow me are in either of these two camps but if you're just an outright terf then go fuck yourself of course). but even if you're entirely dedicated to balancing every harry potter post with a post about hating terfs, the fact that harry potter is still being promoted in a way that's uncritical of the content itself makes me uncomfortable and by making the harry potter brand maintain relevance that's still supporting jkr no matter how many times you put "fuck terfs" on your blog

disagree with me if you want bc i can't control whether people post about one of the largest fandoms in history, but i can make a statement being like "hey if you follow me and your most recent posts are all harry potter gifsets i will be blocking you so honestly for your own convenience please don't put in the effort of following me"

[izzy-b-hands]

Didn't think the 1989 version of The Woman In Black would be scarier than the one with Dan Radcliffe in it

I was Wrong flkjdsafkldsja, but I'm delighted to have been wrong. I had missed getting scared with more practical effects/careful timing of things in the background of shots appearing and disappearing, and this one scratches that itch well.

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

when will people cough north americans stop generalizing the entirety of continents as one entity? europe is culturally diverse, so is south america, and asia, and africa, and all the little places inbetween like countries in the caucasus?

i’m sure it’s real easy to generalize a whole lot of culturally rich places to make your point, buddy

[lollich0p]

going to blow myself up i forgot how fucked up mass effect women are :(

[seven-saffodils]

.

[whysamwhy123]

I'm sure all of you who (rightfully) complain about AEW's shitty sexist commentary are just as mad at Nigel for spending the entirety of the Toni/Taya match objectifying Taya and making gross, pervy comments about her and how he wants to fuck her, right? Right?! RIGHT??!! 🙂🙂🙂

[administer-distractions]

.

[bi-writes]

hiiiii I'm new to your page but i would like to ask you what would've happened if simon mail-ordered a bride?

mail-order bride

you stare down at the address on the card, blinking as you reread the house number and look back up at the cottage in front of you. the numbers match, but you just need a few more minutes before you knock on the door.

you're not holding too many things. you have one suitcase with the entirety of your belongings at one side, the cat carrier sitting on top of it. on the other side, you hold a bundle of papers. your immigration papers, all shiny and new, your birth certificate, and your new british passport.

when you look back down, you swallow as you read over your name. it's odd, to see something new in the section labeled SURNAME.

Riley.

you've never met him. this isn't legal, it can't be, to have all of these things. he must be someone important. someone they value. or maybe, they are just too afraid to say no to him.

the front door opens, and you freeze on the spot as you see someone duck their head to step outside. they're wearing a mask, covering their entire face except for their dark eyes, but it's hitched up over his nose as he holds an unlit cigarette between his lips.

he stares as he sees you at the end of the steps. he frowns, looking you up and down.

"weren't supposed ta be 'ere for a few weeks."

your eyes water a little, but you only manage a shrug.

"i-i..." you meet his eyes. "i-i couldn't stay there any longer. i didn't have anywhere else to go."

he tucks the cigarette back behind his ear, slipping the mask off. it reveals a tousled mess of short blonde hair and a terribly scarred face. his eyes dart to the little carrier sitting next to you when he hears a soft meow coming from it.

"said no pets."

your lip trembles.

"please," you whisper, and his lip twitches as he fights off a scowl. you imagine he must not have much practice in hiding his emotions. he comes down the steps anyways, coming closer, and you pick up the carrier as he snatches the suitcase off the pavement, making his way back inside. you follow him, naturally.

when you close the door behind you, you're surprised at how quaint it all is. nice brick fireplace, a soft carpet (no shoes allowed is what he snapped at you), and wonderfully furnished to make the place cozy, warm, lived-in. there's throw blankets and accent pillows. there's pictures on the walls, paintings, yellow corner lights to give everything a soft glow. the kitchen is beautiful, with lovely colored tile and wooden cutting boards, a drip-coffee setup in the corner and worn cookbooks stacked neatly by a stainless steel toaster. there's herbs growing in little pots sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and there's a cast iron pot decoratively resting on the stove.

it's spick-span clean. there's no specks of dust or splatters left over from bacon grease. there's papers pinned to the fridge, lists to remind him to buy whole milk and sliced bread and call about the internet bill being charged twice again.

you set the carrier down on the couch, unzipping the top. a little curious black head pokes out of it, and you reach in and pick the cat up under its belly and drop it onto the floor. immediately, the cat spreads its front paws, claws sticking out as they begin to knead the carpet and use it as a personal scratcher, the prick, prick, prick sound enough to draw the giant man out of the bedroom with a hard frown on his face.

he points at the thing and shakes his head.

"keep tha' thing off the fawkin' counter," he snaps at you. he purses his lips when he sees you still standing there, afraid to even move. he comes closer, the cat scurrying off, and he yanks your coat and scarf off, going to the hang them up by the door. "can unpack tomorrow. need t'make somethin' ta eat."

you move immediately towards the kitchen, hoping he keeps a stocked fridge, but he puts out a big hand and stops you, stepping in front of you.

"the fuck are y'doin'?" he asks, and you blink up at him.

"you said to make dinner...s-sir?"

he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

"y'listen t'this," he murmurs. "women don't lift a fuckin' finger in this house, y'hear?"

you nod, and he reaches up and palms your throat, cupping your jaw.

"and my wife doesn't call me sir," he mutters. "it's simon."

you soften a little. "i-i'm sorry, simon."

"don't apologize," he grits his teeth. "did nothin' wrong."

when a fresh set of tears comes down your face, he wipes them away with ease, calloused thumb swiping over your cheeks and quieting you. he puts something into your hands, a velvet box that he must've gotten when he went to put your suitcase away.

"y'r a riley now, yeah?" he murmurs, and you tilt your head at an angle, and your foreheads brush together when he bends low to speak to you. "act like it."

you lean up on your toes (he's so fucking tall), and you kiss him softly beside his mouth. when he moves his head, your lips brush against each other, but he pulls back to make his way to the kitchen. you hear the gas stove light up, and a few minutes later, there's a familiar smell of onions hitting hot olive oil.

you take a seat on the couch, smiling to yourself, wiping your eyes as you curl up there. you flip open the box, sighing shakily when you see the rectangular diamond and matching gold wedding band. when simon comes back in to give you a mug of tea, you take it with your left hand, and his eyes flicker when he notices the new jewelry there, so pretty, so new.

mine.

when he pads back into the kitchen, the cat blinks up at him slowly, green eyes bright as they sit on the counter.

simon walks past it, saying nothing at all.