paperbacksandpolaroids

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on loving your siblings

I don't love anyone, Belle and Sebastian//The Reynolds Pamphlet, Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda//The Other Boleyn Girl(2008)//Fleabag, 2x06//@earth-to-mothership //Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy//Antigone, Jean Anouilh//Maurice Sendak//Little Miss Sunshine (2006)//The Elektra Complex, @filmnoirsbian //NA

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i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

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Every birthday I am further from you. This is what crushes me. Another year of you unknowing, unseeing. You do not know me now, I am so different from 17. Would you love me still? Would you recognise me? Would you see the seeds of what I have become? Would we be just how we were, would you hold my hand and melt me? Or would we have fallen out over something stupid, would you look at my pictures and reminisce, would we smile fondly at a monthly text and rue the space between us? I hope I am someone you would still know, and love. But each year the distance grows and I am so far from the girl you knew.

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kinder than man, athea davis

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People are oceans. You cannot know them by their surface.

- Beau Taplin

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people who add non-autogenerated subtitles to videos are the most attractive people on this planet and allowed to steal one (1) thing from my home. including a kiss

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Marlene or Mary

Indie sleaze

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parent-child dynamics are soooo crazy. i love you i resent you i can't stand you i adore you i pity you. and still watching your hair get a little more grey every time i see you makes my stomach feel weird

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Sorry I don't know how to save posts so I keep reblogging stuff I want to come back to forgetting it gets pushed out to everyone sorry guys

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Can anyone recommend a Jily/marauders era fanfic similar to The Life and Times by Jewels5? I finished re-reading it last week and I can’t get over it 😭😂 I need something else to read. I’ve seen a few posts about Commentarius however I couldn’t get into it properly as it’s so different to TLAT - should I persevere?

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James and Peter after a night out in the Muggle town near the Potter’s House

July, 1977

Taken by Remus Lupin

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i’m a lover. AND a biter

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Gone to meet my maker. A fate better than this life, to meet her, to hold her, to hear her again. I'd beg of her, am I going right? Are you proud? The energy expended, the cramps, the back ache, the morning sickness, the sleepless nights, the fear and love that went into making me, was it worth it? When you made me, did you forsee this? Did you know that to make me was to condemn me to navigate this twisted plane without you? I would ask her how- how did she weather those nights when her own maker was gone. How did she live without that guiding hand, that force of wisdom and knowing. I would ask her to hold me, to hear me. I would love to meet my maker, to know her again.

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To know her was to know love, to know comfort. To know warmth, safety in warmth and to know that the arms that hold you will hold you a thousand times more. It was to know laughter, to know wit, and to know quiet understanding communicated by one small smile. Knowing her was knowing right, and wrong, and knowing mistakes can be healed with a stroke of the hair. I know these things because I knew her, I will know them forever, and I will make others know them too.

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She was a kid too. They were all kids. They laughed and drank and got stroppy with each other. There were fondles in the dark, and hungover mornings where they piled into bed together in a sun soaked room. They were young and wild and careless and messy. And now they are wise, and cautious and responsible. He goes for chemo every week, she holds his hand and rubs cream on his back. The others send well wishes, and research papers, and help calculate mortgage repayment rates. They are solemn when they see his swollen, flaking face, hugs and handshakes, the fuse of youthful friendships, best friendships, love and sunsets, burning out fast. His shock of red hair greyed and patchy, laughter and teasing replaced by bloated silences. Soon I fear the six will be five, clad in black, gasping through tears at his face on a pamphlet. A name and some numbers. The flame of his hair, his life, and the one they used to know, extinguished.

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Tired. Bored. Christmas but not Christmas. Fear and pain and atrocities all over the world. Apathy here. Too tired, too empty.