ofgeography:

play-read-write:

just-shower-thoughts:

If Snow White literally had “lips red as a rose, hair black as ebony, and skin white as snow,” she’d look like a walking nightmare.

honestly this sounds like the description of a vampire. Which would also explain how she convinced seven dwarves to let her stay with them. How she could control some animals to do her bidding. How she could sleep for a long time without aging. Why the hunter betrayed the queen for her, and why the queen wanted her heart, so she could be sure she was killed properly. 

the first baby is born in may, and dies in his sleep. the second does not make it to term. the third lives for a year before an unknown illness claims him. the queen pricks her finger on a needle: old magic. blood on snow on an ebony windowsill. the wind carries the the contract, and the woods accept. 

blood now must be repaid with blood later, but the fourth baby is a girl, and she lives.

*

she grows slowly, and out of order. first her hands, long and bony; then her arms, thin, hollow-looking. she never looks quite like a child: no chubby cheeks, no skinned knees, no missing teeth. her hair is thick and so black it sometimes seems viscous. her skin is so thin you should be able to see the blood running through it.

they name her snow white, for the fairness of her skin. so fair that she cries when left in the light too long.

*

the queen dies when snow white is four, still small, and beloved. she is not beautiful, her mouth too painfully red, her eyes too liquid dark, her teeth too pointedly sharp. but only those who do not live in the castle think this. to know the child is to love her. to know the child is to want to please her. to know the child is to know that she is precious.

that she must be protected. that she must be obeyed.

“it is not your fault,” the king whispers to the child on his lip, petting her head. “she was not strong enough. i will make sure you never go hungry.”

the child presses her tiny hand against his cheek. “i know you will,” snow white says.

*

peasants begin to go missing. young boys are snatched from the fields. women are summoned to the castle and never seen again.

“gifts,” her father calls them. “eat. you are too thin.”

the girls are always silent, and the boys always scream. snow white hates it. she wishes they would stop, but she is hungry. she is so hungry. and doesn’t she have the right to survive? isn’t she a child, too?

but her mother’s blood is the only food that ever made her feel full. now she can eat and eat and eat and never feel like she has taken a single bite.

she grows thin. the sun becomes too strong for her to go outside.

“a mother’s blood,” the king muses, and sends his advisors out to find snow white a new one.

*

the kingdom has six queens in six years, but no more peasants go missing. it must be something in the castle, they say. some mold. some terrible illness. something that lingers, and kills you slowly.

but snow white grows healthy regardless. she can be seen, sometimes, on the parapets: in the early years she wears a heavy cloak but as she grows it gets thinner, and then disappears entirely.

she is small, and delicate. her laughter, floating down into the village, is silver and gold and painted in eighth notes. it is said that if you look into her eyes you can see your deepest desire. it is said that she will give it to you. it is said that every time a queen dies it breaks snow white’s gentle heart. she shrinks. she hides away indoors. she becomes frail and cannot leave her bed.

so many queens in so many years. eventually, somebody will notice.

eventually, somebody does.

*

“mirror, mirror, on the wall: who’s the fairest of them all?”

you, my queen.

“there are no others?”

there is one other. but she is young. she was made by the forrest. she doesn’t know what she is.

“another? after all this time? where?”

the kingdom of six queens.

“how strong is her heart?”

she is too young to know for certain. but she when she is hungry, she has always been fed.

*

snow’s new mother arrives on horseback. her lips are red as blood, her hair as black as ebony, her skin as fair as–snow’s. 

she marries the king and they spend the night in his chamber. this has never happened before. snow white does not understand. she is hungry. she always gets fed, the very first night. she always gets blood on her gown.

but her father stays in his chamber and does not come out. in the morning, his eyes are hazy and he does nothing but smile. her new mother’s teeth are red.

snow white waits. she isn’t starving yet. surely her father will snap out of it and feed her.

*

“today?” snow white asks, and her father pats her head.

“i will find you a peasant boy,” he says. “a strong one. your favorite kind.”

“that is not my favorite,” snow white tells him. she frowns. he has never told her no before. he, and everyone else, has always done exactly what she wanted. “father, i am hungry. you promised i would never be hungry again.”

she begins to cry, and the hazy look leaves him. he falls to his knees, her face between his hands. “of course,” he murmurs, “of course, tonight, i’ll send her. i don’t know why i didn’t before. i don’t know what i was thinking. tonight.”

snow white kisses his cheek. her red lips leave a print.

*

her new mother does not come. in the morning, her father’s eyes are hazy once again.

*

“father,” snow white begs.

“i promise,” he answers, but he is weak, every night he gives in to weakness because her new mother does not come. snow white is hungry. snow white grows thin. snow white cannot go out into the sun.

*

at last, her new mother comes. she has a plate of food: vegetables, fruit, and a slab of meat.

“eat,” her new mother murmurs. she perches on the edge of the bed.

snow white shuffles away from the sunlight coming through the window. “i’m not hungry,” she says.

“but you must be hungry,” her mother says, smiling. she reaches out to chase the edge of snow’s jaw. “you haven’t eaten in weeks. not even a peasant boy.”

snow white looks up, startled. “they aren’t filling,” snow white says.

“no,” agrees her new mother. “i agree. i prefer kings, when i can get them.”

“i prefer mothers.”

“i am not your mother.”

“then what are you?”

her smile is slow and bitter red. “my mother made the woods a promise, and the promise was me. she did not know that promises must be paid in blood, and sustained in blood, and that the blood was also me. she got what she wanted, and i ate until i was as full as a human could make me.”

“are there others? like you? …. like me?”

“there were,” the queen says. “once, there were many of us, and all of us were starving.”

snow white does not yet understand. “then what happened? where did they go? how did you survive?”

the queen runs a finger along the fabric of snow white’s blanket. her nail rips a line through the thread. “humans are weak, snow white. a thousand of them would not be enough to fill us up. but we are strong. our hearts can sustain a body for a hundred lifetimes.”

her teeth grow long. “i have been hungry for such a long time,” she says. 

snow white understands.

she runs.

*

it hurts: her skin is so hot it is nearly on fire. her feet blister as she runs. she has never been outside of the castle grounds, but the woods are dark and shaded. the shade is like jumping into a pool of water. the red bleeds from her skin, leaving her fair and white once more.

she hides inside the hollow of a tree (the woods created her and the woods will keep her safe until her mother’s debt is paid). she sleeps while the hunting parties pass her by, all but one. he is a huntsman. he knows the woods. he knows the woods have favorites, and protect them; but the woods are old and can be tricked.

he waits.

when she emerges, it is dark. her skin is so white he almost wants to drink it. she is small, her hair so black he thinks she has woven the night sky into it. as he notches his bow he thinks it seems a shame to kill something so beautiful, something so beloved by the woods. the huntsman is loved by the woods, too. he knows how its favorites suffer.

she turns to look at him. when their eyes meet he sees his deepest desires. her eyes promise to give it to him. we are the chosen, her eyes promise, as she approaches and he does not shoot. cannot shoot. cannot look away.

“i am so hungry,” she whispers, reaching out to touch his face. “my father hasn’t fed me.”

“she wants your heart,” the huntsman confesses.

snow white knows that already. snow white is beginning to understand the bargain that her mother made.

“she cannot have it,” snow white says, and her teeth get long, and she eats.

*

“mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

you, my queen. but not for long.

*

part two

(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)

last-snowfall:

geardrops:

swanjolras:

out of all the aspects of millennial-bashing, i think the one that most confuses me is the “millennials all got trophies as a kid, so now they’re all self-centered narcissists” theory

like— kids are pretty smart, y’all. they can see that every kid on the team gets a trophy and is told they did a good job; they can also see that not every kid on the team deserves a trophy, and not everyone did do a good job

the logical conclusion to draw from this is not “i’m great and i deserve praise”— it’s “no matter how mediocre i am, people will still praise me to make me feel better, so i can’t trust any compliments or accolades i receive”

this is not a recipe for overconfidence and narcissism. it is a recipe for constant self-guessing, low self-esteem, and a distrust of one’s own abilities and skills.

where did this whole “ugh millennials think their so-so work is super great” thing even come from it is a goddamn mystery

what fucking kills me is, yeah, maybe we got the trophies, but who gave them out

this is not a recipe for overconfidence and narcissism. it is a recipe for constant self-guessing, low self-esteem, and a distrust of one’s own abilities and skills.

Which is pretty much what mental health practitioners observe happening.

It’s also what I observed happening as a singing teacher: the older kids literally would not believe a positive word I said until I had proved I would tell them they screwed up/had done badly/etc. I did so in as useful a way as possible (“So this passage. We really need to work on this passage. A lot. This passage is not good yet.”), but with almost every adolescent I taught I had to prove I would give them straight-up criticism before they would parse my praise as anything other than meaningless “the grownups always do this” noise.

(Source: swanjolras-archive, via academicfeminist)

resplendeo:

let’s play another tag meme thing! put each word into your tags and see what pops up:

pretty, head, why, when, where, shit, you, stop, how, for, they, super

(via goblinbutch)

words-writ-in-starlight:

fempunkandkittens:

officialaphnetherlands:

ancientnorthmartian:

“Doctors who spent years studying the human body”

Do you mean doctors who spent years learning about abled white cis men’s bodies

do you know anything about the world besides what you read on tumblr

Okay but this is true?? Shut up with your bullshit, the medical industry for a very very long time has used the able bodied white cis male as their standard and that has very real healthcare consequences for a lot of people.

Do you know why most women don’t know when they’re having heart attacks? Why heart attacks kill more women than men? Because symptoms of a heart attack are different for women and the ones that doctors usually recognize and publicize are the symptoms experienced by men. Do you know why it’s so difficult for Black and Brown people to get diagnosed if they have skin cancer? Because doctors have been taught to recognize it on white people. People of size are constantly told that their problems are entirely because of their weight and doctors don’t even bother to look beyond that to be sure that’s the case. So those people have medical conditions go undiagnosed properly for years, and die in the process.  Fuck, even just the fact that people think it’s okay to charge women more for healthcare because “they have extra parts” (?????) is indicative of the way the male body has been considered the standard for fucking ever. And the healthcare needs of disabled people or trans people? Forget about it.

OP is 1000% right. The medical industry has used the able cis white male body as their standard of care for CENTURIES and that has real consequences for the rest of us today. It’s getting better but it’s not where it should be. So fuck off with your snarky commentary, you’re wrong. The healthcare industry is not equipped to handle the needs of people with disabilities, women, PoC, trans people, people of size, etc. and that’s in large part due to the fact that the established body of medical knowledge was created by studying able, cis, white male bodies almost exclusively.

Hey there folks, speaking as a trained EMT and a pre-med student, I can confirm that the above person is approximately 7000% accurate.  In my EMT training, I would repeatedly ask ‘’but what if my patent is a woman” or “what is my patient is a person of color” and at first all I got was shock.  Then I got confused bumbling.  I got some answers–basic symptoms of a heart attack in women, how to recognize cyanosis in someone of color, the basics of how to work with an autistic patient or someone who for whatever reason can’t communicate well with you.  In fact, EMTs and other EMS workers are getting a lot better at learning the differences between the health care for a person of color or someone disabled.  We were even told that we would need to ask our patients for their biological sex (I know, I’m really sorry, I know that there are people who find this intensely uncomfortable or even harmful, but there are real medical reasons for this and most decent EMTs will use whatever pronouns you ask them to).  But most if not all of the answers we were given about women were directly related to gynecological issues.  The guys teaching me?  They were good guys.  Nice.  Funny.  Smart.  Devoted to caring for patients.  Impassioned about protecting people, especially women and teenaged girls, from assault.  Largely not sexist toward me or their coworkers.  Hell, they were even smart enough to say “listen, boys, the women in this class have a higher pain tolerance than you, they just do, and as a rule if a women says their pain is a 5 on a scale of 1-10, assume it’s somewhere around an 8” when a kid laughed during the gyno unit.  But they just didn’t know what to say when I asked “so if you’re supposed to palpate the patient’s chest, what do you do if your patient’s a triple-D” or when I asked “so if your patient gets menstrual migraines, how do you know if this headache is a stroke or not.”  They had never been taught.  This is a real problem, one that many medical professionals work hard to remedy once they start practicing.  But this is not bullshit.  At all.  The standard patient is a cis white guy with no disabilities or chronic illnesses.  It’s a huge fucking problem and I’m going to need you to step down with your bullshit, there, friend.

On the one hand, yes, I’m reblogging this every time I see it because it’s fucking important and I’m not going to hear otherwise.

On the other hand…bonehandledknife reblogged my rant.  I am awaited in Valhalla.  Someone fucking witness me before I have a heart attack.

(Source: archive48, via bonehandledknife)

rubertkazinsky:

you know what, forget a black widow movie, i don’t want a fucking black widow movie, what a want is a R Rated Black Widow Netflix series. that’s what i want

(Source: charliecox, via goblinbutch)

grounderbellamy-archive:

Instances may range simply from the denial by an abuser that previous abusive incidents ever occurred, up to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of disorienting the victim.

(via adelindschade)