IN A DISTANT and second-hand set of dimensions, in an astral plane that was never meant to fly, the curling star-mists waver and part . . .

See . . .

"GNU Sir Terry Pratchett" - L-Space Wiki / Ursula K. LeGuin / "Terry Pratchett" - Wikipedia / "GNU" - Urban Dictionary / Going Postal by Terry Pratchett / Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett / Brandon Sanderson / Paul Kidby / The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett

Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds - Ada Limón

MARRY! YOUR! GAYS!

This made me tear up. We all can be heroes!

OMMGGGG

This gave me the Biggest smile…

If that doesn’t say ‘suck my dick, Nazis’. I don’t know what does

Over 113, now! He missed celebrating his Bar Mitzvah because of the first World War, so he finally observed it September 2016, a hundred years later.

badassbettyrizzo:

Listen, I voted for her, but in my heart I don’t know that I’ve had many moments of truly liking or admiring her. But this moment? This poise? This complete self-control (in a situation where sexist men would expect her to be falling apart)? I have never been prouder or more admiring of someone. I agree, Bill. That’s our girl.

Okay but what if, what if you had lots of little girls living in the city before Angua appeared, before Cheri, before Sally.

What if there were little Morporkian girls living in quietly oppressed terror, staying up late at nights listening to their parents argue about where the money for the next guild protection was going to come from, hearing the dwindling numbers of Watchmen walking the streets who have long since stopped ringing the bells and calling out that all is well. Because it’s not. It’s not all well. The guilds and their members are flourishing and the rich always rise, but what about the girls in the Shades, the fifth daughters in Cockbill Street who know there won’t be enough to eat that night but they scrub the kitchen table anyway. The girls who don’t want to be a Seamstress though it’s likely the only way to be safe where they live…

What if you had little girls who watched their mothers find a way to make ends meet no matter what, and thought it was magic. What if making a loaf of bread last a whole week became a magical skill. Tiffany does it with cheese, so why couldn’t a girl in Morporkia take their meager flour ration and make a bread that never goes stale? Need is a driving force of magic on the Disc after all.

So they grow up to be women who find spare pennies here and there and save them up for a rainy day, or when their neighbors are short of rent or the baby has croup and the doctor wont come so you turn to the old woman at the end of the street who was forced to bury more than one of her own, but has a knack with getting a sickly child through the night. It’s not magic, they tell themselves, not really. It’s just…making do, it’s making ends meet, it’s surviving.

It’s little girls lying in bed at night, eyes scrunched shut against the world, listening to the Watchman outside murmur “twelve o’clock and all is…well, it’s not too bad.” and thinking to herself I will make it well, I will make it well, one day I will make it well.

And then there’s a dragon and things change and the Watch is at the center of it and they’re helping people, they’re out there on the streets at night, carrying light into dark places, ringing bells like holy men warding off spirits and proclaiming that all is well and there’s a woman, there’s two! THREE! There’s women in the watch! And one day a young woman walks into Pseudopolis Yard in her second hand shiny boots and takes the shilling, vows to uphold the law and protect the innocent, to do what must need to be done. And it’s not magic, it can’t be magic, Mister Vimes would never let magic into the Watch…she’s just lucky is all…lucky and smart and always seems to be in the right place at the right time. Like Carrot.

And if the coffee never goes stale while she’s around and has a habit of making lost people found…well…so what? She’s a Watchmen, after all. 

friends, lemme share this little gem with you

FIRST! The inner flap:

oh dear indeed… 

some people crayons are jerks.

:’(

:D

:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :’’’’) :’’’’’’’’)))))))))))

i just have a lot of feelings about this book and think everyone should own it

i lovethis so much

Thank you.

#OMG WHYYYY #MY MOUTH IS LITERALLY HANGING OPEN #TEARS ACTUALLY ON MY FACE #THIS IS A LOT #THIS IS ACTUALLY TOO MUCH #DO YOU UNDERSTAND THO #SHE’D BEEN WAITING HER WHOLE LIFE #IT WAS REALLY THE ONLY PURPOSE GUIDING HER LIFE #WAIT. WAIT FOR SOMEONE TO COME BACK FOR HER #SHE HAD NO OTHER HOPES OR MOTIVATION #JUST WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REMEMBER HER #TO COME BACK FOR HER #WAITING FOR A DAY WHEN SHE WOULDN’T HAVE TO BE ALONE #AND THEN FINN #SWEET PURE BRAVE FINN LITERALLY DROPS OUT OF THE SKY AND INTO HER LIFE #AND HE’S KNOWN HER FOR A MATTER OF DAYS #AND SHE GETS TAKEN AND HE DROPS EVERYTHING TO RUN BACK INTO THE HEART OF EVERYTHING HE WAS TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM #AND LIKE REY KNOWS THIS #HE TOLD HER SO IN THE CANTINA #HE HAD TO LEAVE BC IT WAS SUICIDE TO TRY TO FIGHT THE FIRST ORDER #BUT THEN HE SAW HER TAKEN AND THEN HIS ONLY MISSION BECAME SAVING HER #HE SAID TRYING TO FIGHT THE FIRST ORDER WAS S U I C I D E #HE SAID THE FIRST ORDER WOULD SLAUGHTER THEM ALLTHAT THEY SHOULD ALL RUN #BUT HE RAN RIGHT INTO CERTAIN DEATH FOR REY #HE WENT BACK FOR HER #THE LITERAL ONLY THING SHE’S EVER WANTED ANYONE TO DO #FINN DID THAT #AND THAT VERY ACT FREED HER #SHE’S FREE TO FIND A LIFE OF HER OWN (via jawnbaeyega)

How is it that I’ve lived in Hawaii for nine years, been learning Hawaiian words and speaking pidgin back to my local friends for nine years, know how to say significantly more complex Hawaiian phrases, and yet I had to turn over a Puna Brewing Company bottle cap to find out that Lilo means “lost”?

And now my heart is busted.

I just added this to my queue and then I had to go in and find it again cause I had a thought.

Lilo and Stitch.

Lost and pulled together. 

THIS HAS JUST MADE MY LOVE FOR THIS MOVIE SO MUCH STRONGER AND LET’S BE HONEST IT WAS PRETTY INDESTRUCTIBLE IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!

Happy International Women's Day

Let me take this opportunity to directly address a few issues about Deadpool getting pegged.

1. I’ve seen a lot of people upset that Deadpool feeling pain when receiving anal penetration somehow reflects on his sexuality and I’d like to make it clear it absolutely does not.

Yes, receiving pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, can be psychologically influenced so a sexual act with someone you are emotionally attracted to will feel different than someone you are physically attracted to or even intellectually attracted to but it also has to do with biology. If something feeling good it will inevitably have to do more with your nerve endings than anything else. What does this mean? It means that straight men are just as capable as receiving pleasure from anal sex as gay men are, or bisexual men are, or even as asexual men are. It means they are just as capable of having no pleasure either.

Straight men are not gay for enjoying anal sex. Gay men are not straight for not enjoying anal sex. No one has to do anything to prove or disprove their sexual/gender identity. You never have to do anything to prove to anyone, not even yourself, that you are enough of something.

2. It had to be explicitly pointed out to me that the pegging scene was foreshadowing of Deadpool’s later diagnosis of prostate cancer so I want to explicitly point that out to you because we’re really missing a chance to talk about preventative care

So, anal penetration can be stimulating for people who have a prostate which is a gland about the size of a walnut

It is just a simple part of biology which is the reason the way it feels is a separate matter from our sexuality.

In the movie, Deadpool is diagnosed with cancer which has spread to all of his major organs and specifically his prostate which is something we struggle with as a society to have diagnosed because there is a stigma that anyone touching your prostate somehow makes you “gay” so many people who want to maintain their masculinity refused even get checked.

Many people have mentioned that it seems odd that Deadpool did not find the act of being anally penetrated enjoyable especially because the person penetrating him was not only someone who would accommodate their partners comfort but it is also a professional sex worker and would inevitably know how to introduce someone to such a common sexual practice. This is a great point but another great point is that Deadpool was not intended to come off as sexually inexperienced and there’s no reason to think this this was his first time engaging in this sexual act which can make this an important scene of foreshadowing because if Deadpool was doing something he usually found pleasurable but now felt painful or even different it can be a great indicator that something might be wrong and it was; Deadpool had prostate cancer and later we see the doctor tell them he went without a diagnosis which led it to spread to the point that it did.

If Deadpool had gone to the doctor on International Women’s Day he might’ve not been dying on Christmas day.

Not to say that if something feels painful to you that other people seem to enjoy there is something wrong with you, but if you feel that your body is somehow different (you just don’t feel right or something doesn’t feel the same way it normally does) you should feel comfortable going to see a doctor about it. Also, a lot of people get diagnosed with something only after their intimate partner mentions that they notice something different about their body. If there someone in your life that touches your body a lot, like an intimate partner, they are more likely to find subtle changes in your body like lumps in breast tissue.

Winnie the Pooh quotes make me cry.

“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.” 

“I used to believe in forever, but forever’s too good to be true” 

“I don’t feel very much like Pooh today,“ said Pooh. “There there,” said Piglet. “I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do.” 

“I wonder what Piglet is doing,” thought Pooh. “I wish I were there to be doing it, too.” 

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.” 

“We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Pooh?” asked Piglet. “Even longer,” Pooh answered.

“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together… there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we’re apart… I’ll always be with you.” 

“Forever isn’t long at all, Christopher, as long as I’m with you.” 

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Reblog/Like if you're a "Great Gardener" but have killed many plants in your hobby/career

Don’t lie. I can’t be the only one with innumerable numbers of dead plants behind my belt despite my “green thumb” reputation. As one Horticulture Tech professor once said: “It takes killing it at least 5 times to really know/understand a plant”.

I actually make a point to tell intimidated beginning gardeners that behind every experienced gardener they meet, there’s a trail of dead plants. It’s how we learn, by killing things. To be a gardener doesn’t mean that you necessarily have more skill than others, it just means that you’re stubborn enough to stick with it (and hopefully figure out why things are dying).

For anyone interested in gardening, don’t worry if you kill stuff. It’s okay - just part of the learning process. Try try try again.

I just killed a seedling cactus for which I had been patiently caring for about 6 months now.

I was pretty devastated for a few seconds, but it’s the first time I’ve grown cacti from seed, and now I know how much water is too much.

I have innumerable failures: I just don’t let myself get sad about them, and instead try again.

My “hands-off” method of gardening also means being comfortable with killing  a lot of plants: I put new seedlings through stress tests to weed out the weakest ones.

Being a “from seed” gardener, my best advice is “plant a lot of seeds.” Give yourself room to fail.

Gardening, like most everything, is a skill.  It takes time, patience, research, and practice to acquire.  Those green thumbs?  You get them from having your hands in the dirt at every opportunity, before and after every success or failure.  I hear people say “Oh I can’t garden, I killed a house plant once, lol!” but the truth is, you can.  If you’re passionate and dilligent, you can.

Gardening is as much about learning the process as it is gruntwork in planting and pulling weeds (which is also killing plants!) If you treat it like a straight labour process of putting the plant in your dirt, doing maintainence on the plant, and expect a complete success rate, you’re vastly underestimating the process. Between managing soil qualities, water, light, any chemicals you choose to use, companion plants, helpful and harmful bugs and small animals… you’re bound to have losses, even when you’re well experienced.

(I’m reposting this here, after realizing I originally posted this to the wrong blog!)

I firmly believe that gardening is a form of art. It takes patience and lots of practice. No one is born with a green thumb. Regardless of whether you grew up under the apprenticeship of a garden-loving  parent, or if you’ve just recently begun to appreciate plants, “green thumbs” are something that must be earned.

Plants are so much more complex and resilient than people give them credit for. To garden is to participate in a slow, silent dance between you and the plants. They speak to you with visual clues. While you struggle to unravel their language, to give them what they are asking for, they are working to fulfill their potential. Some will forgive you for your mistakes. Others are fragile and leave you right away.

It’s kind of poetic, learning through death. Especially the death of something you worked hard to care for. And you, proving you have the capacity to bounce back from that failure and guilt, just like your plants have taught you to. If you stick with it, your patience will be rewarded. Your plants will sing to you through beautiful flowers, twirling vines, shining leaves, cleaner air and a bountiful harvest. It’s truly a hobby that, with time, returns everything you give. That’s why I love it.

ok so i just saw tfa again and there were two girls sitting in front of me who couldn’t have been more than five or six and they were VERY curious about the movie and asked their dad a LOT of questions about what was going on… like this constant peppering of little voices going “who is he?” and “why is she doing that?” which i normally would have been annoyed by but it was very cute ANYWAY during rey’s introduction, she’s wearing a mask, right? and i hear the little girl go, “who’s he?” and the dad goes, “SHE is rey.” and this, i’m gonna cry, this little girl gasps with delight and whispers, “that’s a GIRL?” and the dad goes, “uh huh” and all of a sudden this little girl is like bouncing up and down in her seat asking question after question - “what’s she doing? what’s a scavenger? what’s she scavenging for? why is she doing that?” and then finally rey takes off her mask and the little girl gasps again amd goes, “that IS a girl!” and like every single time rey was onscreen from that point on this girl was just absolutely riveted… i just watched a little girl discover her first hero i’m literally bawling

@oh

U failed @ tagging but I still saw it & I’m tearing up

THIS IS WHY REY NEEDS MERCH Y'ALL LET LITTLE GIRLS PLAY WITH BADASS REY TOYS OK

A patronus, Harry tells Hermione, is acing a test and the warmth of a butterbeer between your hands. It is your friends holding you when you fall, and Ron’s sparkling eyes when you whisper hi. And there’s an otter, swimming, and Hermione is blushing.

A patronus, Harry tells Ron, is Ginny’s shaky smile lighting up the world at the end of second year. It is winning the Quidditch World Cup, unwrapping yet another knitted jumper, and your startled surprise at the sight of Hermione punching Draco in the face. And there’s a dog, chasing the otter, and Ron is laughing.

A patronus, Harry tells Luna, is the feeling of starlight on your skin and grass between your bare toes. It is snow melting through your fingers, the magic your mother used to make, something singing in your heart when you stare at the impossible. And there’s a hare, jumping, and Luna is shining.

A patronus, Harry tells Cho, is Marietta shouting the lyrics of her favourite song, dancing in the rain during a storm. It is the look on Cedric’s face when he saw you at the Yule Ball, his hand holding yours and never letting go. And there’s a swan, sliding, and Cho is crying.

A patronus, Harry tells Seamus, is Dean’s funny expression when he is about to burst into laughter and the sound of a explosion that turns out right. It is the fireworks, bright flowers blossoming in the night sky; and the fire burning in your lungs as you fly. And there’s a fox, running, and Seamus is smirking.

A patronus, Harry tells Ginny, is the world expanding underneath you and the wind playing with your hair. It is dancing and laughing until there are tears on your cheeks, Molly’s disapproving voice and Arthur’s amused eyes after one of the twins’ pranks. And there’s a horse, flying, and Ginny is grinning.

A patronus, Harry thinks, is that weird feeling that lives in his chest when the Room of Requirement glows silver, speaking of times when the world was golden.

A patronus, Harry tells Neville, is the scent of freshly turned earth and the feel of the sun through the Greenhouse glass. It is working with your hands in a garden, helping fragile plants and tender seeds grow. It is being buried under friends at a Closing Feast, having won the victory through a different kind of courage. But there’s no victorious moment here, no animal appearing in swirling silver. Just a puff of smoke, insubstantial and insignificant and isn’t that just the way of it for him?

You’ll get there, Harry tells Neville. I mean, it took me ages to learn. You’ll find the right memory. Though Neville sees an uncertainty in his eyes when he says it that he’s all too used to.

And Harry is wrong. Neville doesn’t get it. Not that year, not in the year that follows, and not when Harry disappears and Neville is left to try and fill a space he knows he will never fit into. It’s his secret, the one he doesn’t tell anybody, that their leader, their hero, their general, can’t produce a patronus of his own.

A patronus, he tells so many others, is the feeling of your mother hugging you goodnight, of your father telling you he’s proud of all you’ve done. It’s family-filled Christmas mornings and sun-drenched summer days and the knowledge that you are protected, that you are safe, that you are loved. He feeds them the memories he wishes he had, and it works, for them, and he is proud of their successes. He is. He is.

And then, when the battle comes, as he always knew it would, they appear, black and lethal and full of despair. And he watches them swoop down on the battlefield, watches them prey on his friends, his soldiers, his comrades, and he fills with fury, that they dare come here, that they dare try to hurt the ones he has sworn to protect.

He is filled with fire, and he doesn’t even need the words. He points his wand, and a silvery shape explodes from its end, banishing the Dementors with its strength and size and power and fury. And as the massive lion makes its way back to where Neville stands, he knows the truth.

A patronus, he thinks, isn’t the feeling of dirt on his hands or the smell of the lilacs that grow outside his bedroom window. A patronus is a sad story told in bubble gum wrappers and vacant stares, a lifetime of criticisms and reprimands and knowing that he’ll never be good enough. It is a childhood with not enough happy memories in it, and a child who somehow overcame all that to stand where he is today.

Someday, a patronus will be the scent of flowers, the laughter of his child, the feeling of his beloved in his arms. Someday, it will be all those moments and memories he fed to others. But today, a patronus is seeing with his own two eyes that even in a world as dark and bleak and black as this one has become, there are things and people and ideas worth protecting. It is doubting yourself and your abilities and your worth, but in spite of that, never once doubting for the briefest instant that protecting those things and people and ideas matters so much more than protecting yourself.

Wow, that was amazing, thank you for adding it, intelligencehavingfun

Koko, a female gorilla that can communicate using sign language has a message for mankind.

This is unbelievable why doesn’t this have more notes what the actual fuck

holy actual fuck

Yes kids, it’s easy.

yeah but just imagine an imp or lesser demon who takes pity on a young girl whose life was totally fucked over by overzealous parents, and who was alone because nobody wanted to befriend her.

imagine the demon seeing her crying alone while he’s possessing, like, a neighbor or something, and shambling up in the stiffly-working meat suit and sitting down and asking her what’s wrong. Imagine the little girl being afraid for a moment because people don’t usually walk like that, or talk to her, or ask her what’s wrong, before she just unleashes and lets the floodgates open. The demon is so stricken with grief for this little girl that once he gets over with his possession, he goes in his true form to her and plays whatever game she wants him to play.

Imagine that she’s finally happy and that the demon must go and so while she’s bidding a tearful farewell, the demon teaches her to summon him.

Imagine a little girl with her best friend, the lesser demon.

Now imagine her summoning him again and again through her life. To hang out. To get advice. Whatever. And one day when she summons him she’s crying. Because something bad happened. She won’t tell him what. She just wants his help to make sure nothing like that can ever happen again. She wants to be strong. He can help her with that so he does. Then she uses that power to become a superhero & he has to explain to higher level demons why she can wield brimstone but hasn’t sold her soul.

i really love tumblr sometimes because y’all make something that’s meant to be shitty and awful and horrible such as a demon and turn it into the most humanizing and empathizing piece of shit in the cutest possible way

And one day when the demon answers her summons expecting to hear about her latest exploits, he finds himself not in her house in front of the fireplace, or even in the woods out the back, but in a cold white hospital room. She’s older now, mid 40s, he’s seen her grow from so small, but she tells him that she’s sick and there’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. That one day she won’t be able to call him anymore. Her lesser demon is distraught, he knew she was mortal but he never expected this. Her clawless fingers have burrowed into his heart and in all his thousands of years of life he has never thought of what it would be like to lose someone, for real. To lose someone forever. She tells him it will be ok, that it will stop hurting after a while, but he knows it’s wrong. Maybe for humans who always live with the knoweldge of their mortality, but not for him. He will never stop grieving her death. He makes her promise to summon him every day from the hospital, and he returns to the planes of hell. He cashes in every single debt he is owed over the past three millenea, ferreting out every favour he can. He makes alliances, promises oaths in blood and barters his precious hoard of souls until finally he returns to her with an offer. If she wants, she can leave her hospital bed, take his hand and follow him to the deepest circle of the underworld where she can be reforged into a demon too. She can live forever there, and find her own lost children on the surface, and he won’t have to lose his closest friend.

*openly weeps*

This was such a great little story!!

Okay seriously all of you fuckers need to watch the movie Lo right now.

^ Opal knows what's up. Watch Lo. It's awesome. But for a similar story without the demon, watch Leòn: The Professional.