Mar. 11th, 2017

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insomination:

alwaysboth:

elexuscal:

Their stories: Amazing grammar, soaring vocabulary, beautiful imagery and prose which flows like a river.

In chats: no capitalisation or punctuation, swears like a sailor, misspellings everywhere, acronyms and abbreviations every five words, idek

#listen #listen do u know how much braining it takes to make the words go? #it is a lot #it’s like wearing fancy clothes all day #and then when you’re at home and comfy #u just put on ur pj’s ( @feynites)

I have never related to a statement more than “do you know how much braining it takes to make words go?”
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brokehorrorfan:

March 10: Buffy the Vampire Slayer premiered 20 years ago today.

The influential series ran for five season on The WB before switching to UPN for its final two seasons. A total of 144 episodes were produced over the course of seven years.
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ink-splotch:

The morning after her father died, the first thing Laura saw upon waking was Bobby, curled up around his Wolverine doll–the one that he’d carried out of the lab, through a sewer, bundled into the fake bottom of a crate in the back of a truck, up the 5, across the deserts of Utah, the Rockies, and the long flat north that came after. He had carried it through these woods, through this fight and this flight, and there he was sleeping, pudgy hands curled close around it.

Laura had read the comics Gabriela and the other nurses had brought in for them. They had been assigned to learn how to read briefs, maps, instruments, but Gabriela had brought Laura comics about heroes.

In the lab, they had taught Delilah how to drag poison from green veins, how to find the sharpest edge at her beck and call, to strangle. The day before, Delilah had shredded the life out of men with a screaming rain of pine needles. She had wrapped long grasses around Rhodes’s ugly bolo tie and dragged him down and down. But that next day, that dawning day, Laura woke up to see Delilah calling small yellow apples down from a tree blooming out of season.

It had been a story in a comic book, Eden. It had been fiction, a fantasy, a dream, a random set of coordinates. Logan had suspected they would find nothing when they got there. He had been sure.

Sometimes promises are fiction. Sometimes they’re written on the backs of twice-folded photographs. Sometimes the nurse with the steadiest hands whispers to you in the middle of the night come with me child, wake up child, curl up in this duffel bag, stay quiet child, believe me child, we’re going, we’re going, I’ll get you somewhere safe.

Laura had curled up in that fabric-walled darkness, clutching her backpack to her chest. She had her ball, the paperwork that was her life writ out, two battered comic books. A photograph with a list of whispered names. They were not supposed to have names any more than they were supposed to have birthdays or comic books or childhoods.

Kind hands were waiting for them at the end of this journey. There was refuge. There were new names, visas and school where no one should bleed for anything except loose teeth and ignored blisters.

Logan had scoffed, and Laura hadn’t listened. She had said her friends’ names over and over. He had pointed to coordinates in a comic book, and she had said her family’s names over and over. She knew, the way Logan never did, the way Logan never would, that some days stories save you. Sometimes a nurse calls you child instead of by number, and gives you flimsy precious pages to read in the dark.

They knew the comic books were comic books. Laura knew, before she ever met Logan and his smelly, hopeless self, that the X-Men were no gods among men. Flimsy pages—she understood flimsy. She understood the way things tore–pages, clothing, skin and ligaments.

But sometimes you can make the story real. “Eden,” they said. They pressed the coordinates hand to hand, whisper to whisper, and they ran. They promised each other, and they found each other there, at coordinates that had been nothing until they made them a waystation, a place to rest. A watchtower.

Laura had carried so little out of that lab. She had the metal that lined her bones. She had her family’s names. She had a set of coordinates in a battered old comic, and she would carry that forever. It wasn’t real, but she was. It wasn’t real, that Eden, that haven, but she had been there.

She had run shrieking into Rictor’s arms. She had cried on Bobby and danced around the hard cracked dirt with him, each swinging the other in wide circles. Logan had slept safe there for the last time. She would carry it forever. Fading, flimsy pages. A tired man with a funny beard.

They would go next over shallow valleys and dry rocky peaks. Delilah would hunt down a deer in the woods, walking silent on fallen leaves and little sprouts, calling death down green and blooming. Rebecca would cook it up over the fire Bobby raised from sparks, and Laura would lie on her back with her hands on her full rounded belly and pretend she was a lion. When they came down from the mountains, the wide low fields would roll out below them for miles. There would be so much sky.

But for now, in this morning, this dawning day–there was a little boy in a wood, who was the safest he’d ever been. There was a little boy in a wood, with a yellow Wolverine doll held to his chest and Laura sat there in the waking light, watching him breathe.
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tomtrager:

Happy anniversary Buffy the Vampire Slayer! One of the greatest TV shows of all time, you saved my world, a lot. 
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the-untempered-prism:

a commission I did this summer, a present for @son-neko from her sister to brighten her day, and I totally forgot to upload here ^_^;

The handsome kitty is her beloved Mister Darcy, who got loose one day and let everyone worry about him, while he was off having a grand adventure on the TARDIS! The little scamp!
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fuckyeahtobyziegler:

(via TOBY - Movie Trailer - YouTube)

Eleventy billion Oscar noms!
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readingbooksinisrael:

iwannabeadored:

mugglebornheadcanon:

1977. Younger muggleborns laughingly answering ‘Abracadabra’ when asked by teachers if they know how a spell works. Purebloods screaming and ducking under tables because they misheard and this 12 year old is trying to use the killing curse on me.

I think this might be the best one

But actually the muggleborns are doing the exact opposite. Because both abracadabra and Avada Kedavra come from Aramaic

abracadabra=אברא כדברי=I will create as my words

Avada Kedavra=אבדה כדברי=It will be destroyed as my words

And so when the muggleborns say it a flower blooms from the empty pot filled with dirt that no one’s watered for ages or an old teddy bear comes to life-because they’re creating AS THEIR WORDS
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audreyii-fic:

oxford-haze:

eowyn-daughterofkings:

aatrunko:

lizziekeiper:

frankenwhale:

oddlyclad:

xcgirl08:

#cinematic masterpiece

#I secretly rate every action packed film 0-the mummy

Every once in a great while, I will tell somebody “You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.”

…And then I’ll be sad, because they have no idea what I’m talking about. 

I only gamble with my life, never my money.

The Mummy fandom on Tumblr is hella strong

What up mummy fandom I didn’t know existed! Loved this movie. Need to watch it again.

I quote “You’re on the wrong side of the river” constantly.

I’m going to grad school soon to be a librarian and I can’t wait to get drunk and quote all of Evy’s lines.

I’m an archaeology student and I recently re-watched this and the instant they made it clear that it was set in the 1920s I was completely cool with everything about it because archaeology in the 1920s was mostly drinking and blowing things up.

archaeology in the 1920s was mostly drinking and blowing things up
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slayerscommathe:

20th anniversary buffy birthweek  ☰  day six: 1 buffy

#buffyslays20
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oh my god, is this my thing now. OKAY, fair warning, this one’s gonna be… real long.

OKAY SO LIKE. way back in the waybackwhen, we’ve been kicked outta judea for the… first? second? first time. (we got kicked out of israel/judea a… few times. we got kicked out of spain twice, we got kicked out of the netherlands three times, we got kicked out of france and bavaria five times, we got kicked out of mainz in particular four times

god bless the gentiles honestly they’re god’s appointed travel agency. ANYWAY)

so we’re in persia. and we’re under the rule of king ahasueare– king ahahasay– king ahasueueueueue-

KING AHASARARUARAUAEREASS, who is having a Party

and king ahdahahaah has a wife, vashti, who is among the hottest women in the whole country.

king aheshhh, who is quite drunk at this point, is like VASHTI. VASHTI I WANT YOU TO COME OUT AND HAVE FUN AT THIS PARTY. I WANT YOU TO COME OUT AND DANCE FOR US AND WEAR YOUR CROWN

vashti is like ughhhhhhhh FINE

king aaaaaaahhahaha is like …ONLY YOUR CROWN

vashti is like …not fine

so, because this is ancient persia and men are terrible, vashti is promptly divorced and king aughjesus decides to hold the Country’s Biggest Beauty Contest, where the Most Beautiful Women in Persia will all audition to be his wife!!! (I TOLD YOU MEN WERE TERRIBLE)

MEANWHILE haman, a smug motherfucker with a three-pointed hat, is a councillor for the king. haman, because ancient persia does not have any kind of government that could be labeled “sensible”, makes a law that says Everyone In This Country Must Bow Down To Me When I Pass, because Reasons.

BUT, guess who does not bow down to people, you guessed right, it is the jews. chiefly and specifically in this instance an equally smug (but much less powerful) motherfucker by the name of mordecai.

haman passes mordecai, is like “you don’t look like you’re bowing??? that is not a bow shape??? exPLAIN.” mordecai is like “r u god? i don’t think yr god? i think god would have better taste in hats? so”

so haman is plotting like a motherfucker, which he is, and mordecai is Mad Afraid, but there is no time for plotting or fear because guess what it’s beauty contest time, motherfuckers

and guess who mordecai has enrolled in it, it is HIS NIECE, ESTHER

esther is hotter than vashti, but, like, in a chiller way. in my head, samira wiley. (in my head, esther is a lesbian. in my head esther is my girlfriend. right. ANYWAY)

king ahooleyhoo immediately picks esther, as she is the Most Beautiful Woman In A Ten Thousand Mile Radius (as are all jews OBVIOUSLY), and she is taken up into the palace to be the most beautiful and powerful woman in a ten thousand mile radius. and she is also mad smart, so

meanwhile haman has finished his Plotting and has resulted in this: he is going to get revenge against mordecai by Killing All The Jews.

“oh yeah,” say the jews. “real original.”

mordecai goes, well, coincidentally, i happen to have a niece who is the queen of persia. and ollies over like ESTHER? ESTHER HAMAN IS PLOTTING TO KILL US ALL. ALL THE JEWS. DO SOMETHING

esther is like, i have a solution to this. the solution involves getting naked.

so she holds a banquet for her husband the king, and at the banquet is like WOW… GOSH… I’M VERY NAKED… AT THIS BEAUTIFUL BANQUET. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE A LOT OF SEX AND GOOD FOOD, DARLING HUSBAND

darling husband is like fuck yes, gets drunk as shit. esther is like okay. yes. now that you are full of good food and heavily sexed up, can i have a thing. can that thing be that you vow to protect me from anyone who wants to kill me

…sure, says king aheshehaara. sg.

great, says esther. havin a banquet tomorrow night too. be there or be square

king ajldfghfdghk;dfghufgsdoi has no desire to be square, so he comes to the banquet tomorrow night to find that esther has also invited… HAMAN? “well,” he thinks to himself, “i have never pictured this threesome before, but y’know, life is a rich tapestry”

but eventually esther goes “ah okay remember that promise to protect me from anyone who would kill me. what if i told you. i knew a dude who would do that thing”

“I WOULD SUPER KILL THAT DUDE,” says king ahassafrass, who has exactly 2 problem-solving methods

“great,” says esther. “what if i told you… THIS IS THE DUDE.” AND SHE POINTS AT THE DUDE. WHO IS HAMAN. WHO IS AT THE TABLE!!!

!!!!! says king ahahahahhfewsse.

!!!!!! says esther.

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ says haman.

so esther REVEALS SHE IS A JEW! and that haman is implicitly PLOTTING TO KILL HER! (“i didn’t– I WAS NOT AWARE,” says haman. “WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING CHECKED THEN,” says esther. “OR WAIT. ANOTHER SOLUTION. IT’S DAWNING ON ME. AN EPIPHANY. YOU COULD NOT KILL PEOPLE”)

the king has haman hanged on the gallows on which he was planning to hang all the jews. and guess who is instituted as councillor in his place, that’s right, MORDECAI

who declares that the anniversary of Us Not Being Dead shall be celebrated every year forever with dressing up in costumes, and also that we shall eat little cookies shaped like haman’s hat, and also that whenever haman’s name is mentioned we will yell like hell

hey, says king aharseadslic. could, theoretically, this holiday include getting so drunk you can’t tell the difference between mordecai and haman

…i guess so, says mordecai

right, says king ahasuerus. carry on, haman

AND SO WE CONTINUE THESE TRADITIONS OF EATING COOKIES, WEARING COSTUMES, AND GETTIN SLOSHED, even SCATTERED ACROSS THE WORLD; and yes, i will be spending my thursday gettin drunk on my way to rome

so pour yrself a whiskey, put on a fake beard, and raise a glass: it’s purim 5776, and guess what, motherfuckers? 

you still ain’t managed to kill us yet.

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