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June 06 2017

bvcknsteve:

my life is like playing monopoly. everyone is screaming and at least two people want to kill me,, i have no money

hocotate:

NONE of this would be happening in the Berenstein universe

crazy-pages:

giraffeicorn:

I swear it’s like all f/f ships are like knowing you are boarding the titanic.

The Titanic had a 38% survival rate, wlw on television score a whopping 16% survival rate (calculated from these links). Yeah. The Titanic is safer compared to the gauntlet wlw characters  run on television. 

ceridium:

emmersdrawberry:

did those kids ever escape fyre festival or do they live in the wild now like an invasive species 

Lord of the Fyres

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shinondraws:

whatsdifferentincanada:

Metric vs. Imperial

Omg, metrin, this is so true, the american system makes Zero sense

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0804 a9ac

ferris-fields:

This makes me so happy and I don’t even know why.

Reposted bymental-catbansheunsuccessful-abortionlubisztosukolost-in-spaceAluAlugoldenowlPrzygnebionashampainfireawayfiffeysofakantelucidumintervallumilluminationsomewhereonlyweknowjedriqsarazationmomostsadporncomplicated-idealubiedarksideBlackRAtisterstrzepyncmspmyrlakedavrafeedingthesoulDzessikfischikelladeparterbankagoszkobelatrixpoisonedivynodifferencemanticorethinkmoreekeliasderschlaefertantalumfalconwingosiuNorkNorkfalkaaKobajashiCarridwendarksideofthemoonblaueslichtSapereAudegrizzlychickenicantsleepatnightthosecookiesareminee-flaneurviva-salvadoremy-anxietiesviajeroopenheartcavebearelchupacabramalajnainaSkydelanmr-absentiazurialhormezakurkawerkamoonwhalestrzepyunmadebedsthatwasntadreamciarkakiksfreskagoszkopuszkaCzarnyKapturconnlasairescape-artistreloveutiongejowygejarumhcsonoflunarugiaEmilieBrontelottibluebelllordofthecowsjuliagrenzlilois-lane

monasticmaestoso:

glumshoe:

glumshoe:

glumshoe:

I’m suddenly laughing at the idea of a cliche noir detective story written in the brutally concise style of Hemingway.

A woman walked into my office. She had legs. I noticed her legs. “I have a problem. I need your help,” she said. They always said that. I knew her legs weren’t the problem. I hoped she might want my help with them anyhow.

“Can you pay?” I asked. Of course she could. Her shoes were worth more than my rent. She could pay.
“I can pay,” she said. Her eyes were wet. I wondered if anything else was wet. Probably not. I am not handsome. Not since the war.
She was looking at my scar. Lots of people do. Most look away. Not her. She did not look away. She looked at my scar and I looked at her legs. There were two of them. I liked that about her. I liked that a whole lot.
“Will there be danger?” I asked. There always is. This city bleeds danger, then drinks it right back up again.

“I’m afraid there might be danger,” she said. She had the voice of a beautiful woman. She also had the face and body of a beautiful woman. She was beautiful.

The light from the window was striped. It made stripes on my cigarette smoke. The end of my cigarette crumbled into ash. My marriage had also crumbled into ash.

“I can handle danger,” I said. I patted the butt of my gun. My gun was a Colt. My gun and my scar were all that was left from my time as a soldier. My gun, my scar, and the nightmares. I looked her up and down. “I am good at handling things.”

#it was raining and my dick was hard

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thebigwillie:

this passes the bechdel test

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June 05 2017

tearlessrain:

The fact that this language is at a point where “I don’t care” and “behold the field in which I grow my fucks” mean exactly the same thing blows my mind sometimes

kyraneko:

myurbandream:

gotham-mother-of-monsters:

my problem with the ‘harry becomes lord of 2/¾/5 ancient noble houses’ trope is so unbelievably petty because its that fic writers don’t take it to the potential extreme. like, okay, you wanna make harry the bossest of bitches i get that, i understand, i have that urge too from time to time, but c’mon, be a little more creative about it please

so how about a fic where harry goes to gringotts after the fighting is all over to try to make peace with the goblin nation because this boy does not need more problems and after much hostility and some groveling and promises of future payments for damages caused a plucky goblin lass comes and shuffles harry into her tiny cube office to discuss the nature of his financial situation

(this is a grave insult among goblins. getting handled by a female, first of all, because they are supposedly less capable bankers, hello misogyny among other species, and because they consider anyone who needs help with his money to be lower than cave scum. harry doesn’t know about his. and if he did, he wouldn’t care because he does, desperately, need help)

and plucky goblin lass (who we will call PGL for short) brings out this MASSIVE tome of parchment and slams it down on her desk. a cloud of dust rises. harry sneezes and gets a terrible feeling. some of the parchment is mildewing. the stack is taller than his hand is wide. this can only end badly

PGL tells him that he’ll need to read the entire book to fully comprehend the new scope of his property and harry kind of weakly says “what??”

and it turns out that heyo, when the death eaters swore to follow voldemort with all their lives and souls and magic in their little racist hearts they actually swore a modified liege lord oath which also has the coincidental side effect of ceding all titles (and property connected to said titles) held to the lord in question too. haha how funny who knew

and that’s an ongoing thing. so voldemort was the de facto head of two dozen magical houses at the beginning of the war and he just picked up more as he gained more followers and he probably could have just voted himself and his crew into every position of the government and run the country like that if he cared to do it but voldemort was not about dat political life. he wanted change and he wanted it now. he wanted to MAKE AMERICA MAGICAL BRITAIN GREAT AGAIN. so he started a civil war and just never informed his loyal death eaters of that little fact because they didn’t need to know.

and you might think that gringotts vaults are tied into bloodlines but they’re really not. the malfoy family vault belongs to whoever is the current head of the malfoy family. normally, that’s a malfoy and his malfoy spawn becomes the next head and so it passes through the family, accumulating inherited wealth. it was a working system until voldemort got involved and exploited the ever-living hell out of it.

now this all becomes harry’s problem because it turns out that Right of Conquest is an actual thing. what was voldemort’s is now his and voldemort has has the time to accumulate A Metric Fuck Ton of stuff.

also connected to titles are votes in the wizengamot. and whoo boy, this is where harry’s problem becomes really really really problematic. because the noble families squabble over those votes like children, hoarding them and passing them down, occasionally trading them for advantageous marriages and such, but mostly jealously guarding them like the politcal gold they are. it’s such a bitterly tight-fisted market that any one family has ~maybe~ three or  four votes.

and now harry bloody potter has a hundred of the things and a completely unintentional stranglehold on the government. whoops

and then hermione would shotput harry straight into the wizengamot against his protests and things would become so hilarious i just

some jerkass attempts to increase his own salary for doing basically nothing

“how about no,” harry and his hundred votes say.

somebody attempts to tighten restrictions on where magical creatures like vampires and werewolves can work

“how about no.” harry crosses his arms. “actually, how about we repeal those bullshit laws already in place that make it almost impossible for werewolves to get a job right now, hmmmm? and how about we put something in place to catch abusive owners of house elves? and make sure they get paid? and vacation days? and healthcare? actually how about we get healthcare for EVERYBODY HOW ABOUT T H A T?”

ten generations of purebloods cry out in horror. look upon him ye mighty and despair.

the years after voldemort’s defeat don’t go down in history as The Golden Era. in fact, thanks to harry bloody potter (and some incessant nudging by hermione granger), they go down as The Decade of Frankly Astonishing Strides Toward Equality *cough* enforced by a semi-plutocracy.

(all thanks to a third tier plot never really explored by a would-be dictator YOU’RE ALL WELCOME)

Omg this is beautiful.

Harry as an accidental Lord Vetinari, oh my god.

Harry dealing with that all these pureblood families outright hate him. They were loyal to the Dark Lord, loyal to blood supremacy, loyal to their own enrichment and empowerment via the casting down of others, and now here’s Harry Potter, who opposes all of these things, who killed the Dark Lord and vanquished their dreams: their new Lord and Master.

And they can’t do anything about it because not only is it a binding magical contract but it’s their tradition, their law, their way of doing things, and they can’t attack Harry without shattering their own foundations in the process; they can’t even really convey their dislike of Harry because it would be disloyal to their own House.

So, all these pureblood wizards from old families who both hate Harry Potter and everything he stands for but also as a point of honor are perversely proud of him. He’s a wizard; he’s a half-blood, but he’s also the scion of a House of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and he’s a powerful and talented wizard who vanquished the greatest Dark Lord history has ever seen. And he’s the Head of a dozen great and ancient wizarding Houses, he’s their Head of House so to speak, and they tie themselves in knots trying to figure out how to feel about him.

And the ones who don’t have a noble House, but only have their votes in the Wizengamot that Harry Potter owns, and you just don’t throw tradition out and start casting votes on your own inclination, well, they aren’t honor-bound and pride-bound to claim and embrace him, but they make their social standing from copying the greater Houses, and when their betters are quietly and gracefully saying “he’s a chaos-minded tyrant, but he’s our chaos-minded tyrant,” well, they buck up and agree.

Harry Potter, unlike Voldemort, isn’t lashing out at random or threatening to kill their children, so it’s sort of an improvement in many ways, even as they want to scream and throw things over all his reforms.

And after all, the old Houses value power. And Harry, above all, has power.

He goes down in pure-blood history as the Tyrant. The most powerful Lord their family lines have ever known. The man who reshaped their world. Elderly wizards tell their great-grandchildren long after his death that “I knew the Tyrant.” “I beheld him when my father took me to the Wizengamot, and he spoke to me.” “When I went to Hogwarts, he gave a guest lecture.” This far removed, at the end of their lives, the details of his rule are forgotten, the overturnings of tradition lost to history, and he is remembered with pride, even with adoration.

Their Tyrant. Their Lord. Harry Potter, the Greatest Wizard that Ever Lived.

(There are pictures of Harry at Hogwarts, at the Ministry, at St. Mungo’s, outside the Auror Office and in front of the Minister’s Office and in the entrance hall to the Wizengamot and in both the entrance hall and the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, and in every House he ruled. He wears stately robes and an impressive hat, gold jewelry, a beard (dark in some pictures, silver-shot in others, pure snowy white in still more, for he lived to be an old man himself, older than Dumbledore, older than Griselda Marchbanks, who lived to dance at his wedding), his glasses accentuating his brilliant green eyes, his scar more prominent in the pictures than it ever had been in life, surrounded with such trappings as the Sword of Gryffindor and the Elder Wand and a skull that purports to be that of Lord Voldemort.

Also at Hogwarts, in a back corridor next to a set of of dancing trolls and an overzealously combative knight, is a portrait commissioned by the executor of Harry Potter’s estate, in response to directions left in his will. This portrait depicts an eleven-year-old boy in brand-new wizard’s robes, with broken glasses and untidy hair that happens to cover his forehead. The portraits of his older selves go wrapped in the lofty dignity of the position he attained later in life; this child, filled with the untarnished wonder of the magical world, goes freely among the portraits with an anonymity Harry Potter never found in life, and loves it.)

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rcktpwr:

onemorepelican:

Boylitical Compass

this is shockingly inaccurate 

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eda11y:

wonderful by mediakate

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bad1dimagines:

2017 mood

June 04 2017

Harry’s childhood affects him enormously, setting the stage for huge swathes of his behaviour throughout the books. It doesn’t start and end with exceptional reflexes and the ability to go for long periods of time on not much food.

For example: Sirius Black is the first adult in whom Harry Potter willingly confides before he’s beaten the bad guys and taken care of the issue on his own.

This happens in book four of seven.

Look, Harry has trust issues: he lets very specific people in and they stay there. End of. Everyone else spends a lot of time bashing their heads against the brick wall that he throws up around those people he loves.  

But noticeably, all of the people he loves in that way are teenagers like himself; all but Sirius. Never in five books does Harry ever confide in an adult other than Sirius. He accepts guidance from adults when it’s offered to him, but he does not take his troubles to grownups of his own volition. Ever. This character trait drives the entire plot of the first two books - Harry, Ron and Hermione solving mysteries on their own even though they are in a castle stuffed with teachers, among whose number is the man the Wizarding World acknowledges as the greatest wizard alive. They tell all, of course they do. But only when it’s over. Only when they’ve already won.

Harry Potter does not trust people who are in a position of power over him. This isn’t a result of Snape, or Umbridge, or Skeeter-induced Ministry ridicule. This is a result of the Dursleys.

(X)

something else is: he doesn’t strive academically. ron has low academic expectations for himself due to feeling like he can only either tie or lose, should he compete with his older siblings. hermione has painfully high expectations for herself because she’s compelled to prove she deserves her place at hogwarts every single semester of her stay. 

meanwhile harry grew up being punished for ever doing as well or better than his favored cousin, but at the same time being derided for doing worse. it creates this frustratingly passive incuriosity in harry later on that’s all the more upsetting when you realize both his parents were intelligent, talented, and ambitious, accomplishing things in their preferred fields well ahead of their peer groups. 

harry prefers to keep his head down and avoid trouble, attention, and making any kind of serious effort… except for flying and WAR. and even his innate love of flying gets harnessed, immediately, into the violent, clannish proxy-war of interhouse quiddich games. of course he never trusted authority: even the teachers who genuinely meant him well only pushed him deeper into a brutal, unforgiving world with expectations of him that he never asked for. 

dumbledore wanted a child soldier, and he damn well did a good job of making one. 

(via roachpatrol)

the-greatest-genderqueer:

the-greatest-genderqueer:

When you load up on caffeine to make yourself less sad, but instead you just get Accelerated Depression™

I love how fucking abstract the concept of Accelerated Depression is. Like, it’s vague as fuck, but we all know what tf it feels like

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