aperegrintookmyjob

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egg

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oh no tokoyami’s in trouble! …i love drawing scrapes and cuts ahhh

(art by me, do not repost without credit)

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I guess it’s his w/ @alphaxalfa

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if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to live in the midwest, this is it. 

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Just like Slughorn, Albus Dumbledore collects people. Only, instead of focusing on those with influence, he looks to the outcasts.

The expelled half-giant. The young werewolf. The repentant Death Eater.

He protects them and gives them a second chance. All he asks in return is their loyalty.

And, if on occasion he requests that they undertake a certain task, invoking their debt of gratitude - well, that is no more than he is owed.

He once thought to add a certain disowned Black to his collection, but quickly realised his mistake.

Sirius is not an outcast, but a rebel. He knowingly chose his path, and chooses what price he is willing to pay for it. He refuses to be used.

So Albus Dumbledore abandons him.

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I’m like his mother.  I have to keep him in check. (x)

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okay, i don’t hate kids. i think they’re sort of funny. i like that you can talk to them like an adult and they’ll make sounds like they understand. i taught one kid “phosphorescence” and he looked at me and said, “they could just call it glowing if it means something that glows.” the kid undid the entire science community in one sentence.

but i hate kids.

or really, i hate how they’ve always been expected from me.

when i was five i was given “babies.” i hated the hardness of dolls, disposed of them for dramatic stories between stuffed animals. i knew how to wrap, feed, and care for a baby before i could spell my last name. when i was nine i was already “watching the kids”. i was only four years older than my cousins were. i wanted to go out and play. instead i was expected to have responsibility. by the time i was thirteen all of my friends had told me about how many children they were going to have in their twenties. 

my hips were “child-bearing” hips. my brother was a scientist, or a fireman, or a steamroller. i was going to make a good housewife, or mom, or nanny, or mom, or mom, or mom.

and when my body hurt, i was told it wasn’t really my body, not really, it belonged to my future children. i couldn’t cut or snip or tie anything; i was trapped by the potential energy that hung above me. a boulder, threatening. i couldn’t get tattoos, because what would i tell my children? i couldn’t kiss a girl, because what would i tell the children? i couldn’t be risky or wild or anything but a lady, because what about the children?

and when i said “i don’t want children” - not biologically, at least, not when cancer and depression and a whole other host of terrible things lives inside me - do you know what they said? “it’ll change, wait and see” “it’s not bad” “you’ll get used to it” “when you meet the right man” “you don’t want to be lonely”.

i don’t hate kids. i’m great with them. 

but then i’m told again that my life will be forfeit to them - something in me snaps angry. “wait until you have kids” “you should travel before you have children” “you’ll be more happy.” 

i hate kids! i’ve snarled. i don’t mean it at all. but god. please, leave me alone. i don’t want to be a biological mom. 

it’s like we’re born with a uterus and told “this is your whole life. your singular purpose. your job.” 

i want to be my own purpose. not here for the sake of passing genes on.

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Hiya tumblr, it’s me, Dennywise. Would you like your pancake back?

Take it.

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Me: “How can I help you today, ma'am?” Client: “Is e-mail internet”? Me: “I beg your pardon?” Client: “Is e-mail on the internet? I have no internet, can I still read my e-mail?” Me: “Well yes, you must be able to get online to view your e-mail.” Client: “Oh, dear. I can’t see my e-mail.” Me: “Well, let’s see. Can you open up Internet Explorer for me and tell me what you see?” Client: “Open what?” Me: “Your browser, can you open up your browser?” Client: “My…my…?” Me: “What you click on when you want to browse the internet?” Client: “I don’t use anything, I just turn my computer on, and it’s there.” Me: “Okay. Do you see the little blue ‘e’ icon on your desktop?” Client: “You mean I have to start writing letters again?” Me: “I’m…what, I’m sorry?” Client: “I don’t have any pens at my desk. I just want my e-mail again.” Me: “No, ma'am, your desktop, on your computer screen. Can you click on the little blue ‘e’ on your computer screen for me?” Client: “Oh, this is too much work. I’m too upset. Just send me my e-mail. Can’t you send me my e-mail?” Me: “We…okay, ma'am. Can you tell me what color the lights are on your router right now?” Client: “My what?” Me: “The little box with green or possibly a couple of red lights on it right now - it’s most likely near your computer?”

Client: “Lights and boxes, boxes and lights, just get my e-mail for me.

Me: “My test is showing that you should be able to get online right now. Can you tell me what you’re seeing on your computer screen?” Client: “It’s been the same thing for the last two hours.” Me: “An error message?” Client: “No, just stars. It’s black and moving stars.” Me: “…Do you see your mouse next to your keyboard?” Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Move it for me.” Client: “Move it?” Me: “Yes. Move it.” Client: “My e-mail!”

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i’m going to oxford to get my master’s in theoretical physics to fulfill my lifelong dream of one day understanding a rick and morty joke wish me luck

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just incase you’re having a bad day, watch this

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I hope Black Panther makes black people feel as powerful as Wonder Woman made me feel

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the best thing you will see all year