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July 10 2017


fool me once, shame on u; fool me twice, shame on u again for taking advantage of my compassionate & forgiving nature!!!!!! how dare u

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I feel the need to share this important piece of information I learned in the chocolate museum

Thank you for sharing this important information.

July 04 2017


i don’t want a charlie’s angels reboot movie. i want a 3rd movie to end the trilogy starring lucy liu, with my girl drew, cameron d and destiny… charlie’s angels!! come on!!

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Me vs me when a cutie messages me

June 29 2017

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June 27 2017


Kids.  Teenagers.  As someone staring 40 in the face lemme tell you a thing.

You are going to be horrified and embarrassed at some point by the shit you are doing now.

And you are going to wish with all your might you’d done more of it.  

You’re gonna wish you had more selfies, more photos, more videos being dumb with your friends.  You’re going to wish you’d had your hair even higher or your shoes even sparklier.  

Go.  Document the shit out of your ridiculous life.  Fuck trends but if you wanna be trendy, go all in.  Fuck in-groups and subcultures but if one sings to you, do it all.  Be exactly as cool or punk rock or goth or fandom or country or hardcore or hip hop or whatever, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.

Just don’t hurt people.  That’s the only thing you’ll ever genuinely live to regret.

June 19 2017

But, I do think that if there’s a sort of “moral” to Frankenstein, that who did Mary Shelley her­self most iden­ti­fy with? Probably the crea­ture. You know, as Joey said, the “unnamed crea­ture.” Why? Because that’s how peo­ple respond­ed to her. As an intel­lec­tu­al wom­an and as an unwed moth­er, she was called a whore. When peo­ple found out that she wrote Frankenstein they said what kind of wom­an would write such a book? Must be some­thing wrong with her. There’s some­thing per­verse about a wom­an who would write such a book.

So lat­er in her life she says, “I wrote it, but that’s because the idea came to me in a dream.” And we know that isn’t true because we have her note­books. She in fact thought of the idea. She worked on it real­ly hard. She worked on it real­ly hard while young wom­en around her were killing them­selves. And also, inci­den­tal­ly, she was read­ing the his­to­ry of slav­ery. So she’s ded­i­cat­ing her­self to the ideas of social injus­tice and the suf­fer­ing of those who are con­sid­ered mon­strous by their own soci­ety, her­self includ­ed.

So, she sees her­self as a wom­an who’s trying—she wants to pub­lish and be smart in her world, as some­one who’s going evoke feel­ings of mon­st— [To audi­ence (Joey Eschrich?)] You said a feel­ing of mon­stros­i­ty? People will react to her as though she’s a mon­ster, and she’s say­ing, “Don’t do that.”

The Spawn of Frankenstein: Fear of the Unknown - Annalee Newitz, Bina Venkataraman, Charlotte Gordon, David Guston, Jacob Brogan | Open Transcripts (via jaybushman)



Honestly, comic book writers have gotta start using their characters for more current events commentary. 

Tell me about Superman’s experience as a refugee and what he feels or does when the US tries to close its borders. 

Tell me about Batman’s gun control agenda and how Bruce Wayne goes to rallies to tell the masses how he had to see his own parents murdered. 

Tell me about Wonder Woman being a proficient diplomat, talking to leaders all over the world, stopping wars and taking no shit. 

Tell me about Tony Stark hating politics and trying to save the world and environment and protecting those more vulnerable and being an anti-trump figure. 

Tell me about Steve Rogers taking no shit from facists, racists and homophobes because he didn’t fight the goddam nazis so that some biggots could try to repeat history’s mistakes all over again. 

Tell me about Natasha Romanoff strongly advocating against child soldiers and human traffic and senseless cold wars.



What’s the point of having long-standing, serialized fiction about fundamentally moral people if you’re gonna put them in a vacuum???

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get it sister marjorie




so last night I had a dream that everyone in scooby doo went to college or something except for shaggy and scooby and shaggy was morosely trading in the mystery machine for a prius and the last thing I remember before waking up was scooby saying “raggy why” and shaggy goes “we need a car with better gas mileage scoob”

although character backgrounds are fairly fluid through the Scooby Doo franchise, of all the gang, Norville “Shaggy” Roberts is A> the most financially well of, and B>the most likely to get an athletic scholarship.
Daphne’s parents are rich, but she has for sisters, and the money is her parents still.
Shaggy however is the sole beneficiary of the estate of his late uncle Beauregard, who left him an unspecifiedly large fortune and a large southern plantation. Shaggy is independently wealthy.
Shaggy is also said, at multiple points across the various series, to have, in high school, won numerous awards in both Track and gymnastics. Coupled with the fact that he can outrun Scooby at times, and Great Danes can sustain speeds of 30 mph, means Shaggy can outrun Usain Bolt, atleast is there’s a mummy behind him, or a pizza at the finish line.

TL:DR Shaggy is doing fine and you don’t need to worry about him.

Now, let’s talk about how, CANNONICALLY, Scooby can speak human languages because he is distantly related to dread Cthulhu…

of all the useless information compiled on this website, this is the best thing I’ve ever heard

June 17 2017









i used to get self-conscious over the smallest things but friends let me tell you that today i had to smuggle a furious 8ft python onto the bus during the school rush and not a single person noticed. not one. if people don’t care enough to notice a shopping bag writhing and seething with barely-contained reptilian hatred then i promise you that no-one will pay any attention to that blemish you’re fretting about or how you’ve done your hair

Question, why are you bringing a 8 ft python into a public bus? You know that this reptile can kill anyone inside there?

buddy she’s a snake not a flying death tentacle

snakes are not evil killers out for blood, and length doesn’t mean lethality! my biggest guy is 11 ft– if i have him around my neck, both his face and his tail touch the floor– and even his species struggles to take down anything bigger than a small-to-medium dog

the worst damage that my 8fter is capable of is when she decides to do an impression of a blood-pressure cuff and makes my arm go a bit purple, and even that’s just when i humour her dreams of being big and scary and let her squeeze her hardest before i unwind her like a bratty garden hose

as long as you’re not some sort of magical tumblring rat, you’re fine

Okay, I gotta ask…

1. Why was she angry?

2. Where were you taking her on the bus? Is there a leash-free snake park where you live?

I need to know.

1. she’s a cranky ass in general, but her mood was absolutely not improved by eating a bit of a snake hook, getting stuffed in a sack, experiencing an hour of adelaide’s finest public transport, and having a vet jam a tube into her stomach

2. i think all of australia is technically a leash-free snake park tbh

I am so glad there was follow up on this post explaining why the snake was on the bus!!!

“bratty garden hose” I’m dying

All of Australia is a leash-free snake park.

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just gonna leave this here…

it was never really about health



June 16 2017

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This is Rico, and he suddenly loves my mom’s bread machine for some reason.

bread boy

Let him bake



The whole notion of being docile around a police officer is an utterly terrifying norm. This isn’t the fucking hunger games. Citizens don’t need to be sweet to you, especially when you’re fucking wrong and they know their rights. They shouldn’t have to cower and fear and put their tails in between their thighs because the police academy has a tendency to accept shit heads who need to make up for their dominance complex. 

Not to stomp all over this post or anything, but I got pulled over in Los Angeles in 2009. It was after a concert. The police tried to say I squealed my tires at them, which I definitely did not do, don’t know how to do, and besides the fact I had no music on and my windows rolled down so I absolutely knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I did not do it. As a result, I was calm and relaxed, I wasn’t afraid. And it absolutely perplexed them, one of them even got angry and started to yell at me. They kept insisting I must be drunk, I kept saying, “Give me the test then,” but it seemed like that was the last thing they wanted to do. Until finally, one of them was getting so irate that his partner separated him from me, and gave me the test. Finally, I was dismissed, and the arguably nicer (though not by much) officer said to me, “Can I ask you a question? Why aren’t you afraid of us? I think my friend is upset because you’re not afraid of us and usually people are.” And I said, “If I haven’t done anything wrong, why should I be afraid?” 

But after that, it sat with me, that they expected me to be afraid, and they wanted me to be afraid, and it sat with me that they completely made up a reason to pull me over. Since then actually, I’m much more afraid of cops than I ever was before that moment. 

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“Not use collective punishment as it is not fair on the many people who did nothing and under the 1949 Geneva Conventions it is a war crime.”

Give this kid a scholarship







arthur weasley, aka the world’s biggest muggleboo who probably larps as an office worker on the weekends

officemaster: you have… *rolls dice* successfully transferred the call to your boss’ voicemail! you hear the distant ringing of the fellytone from the inner office for a moment before the machine picks up, securely delivering the regional manager’s message to its intended recipient.

arthur weasley: *pumps fist in air, high-fives xenophilius lovegood*

sirius black: is it my turn yet?

officemaster: no.

xenophilius lovegood: i search the supply closet for binder clips.

officemaster: *rolls dice* you find a small cardboard box with three binder clips in it, but in the process of retrieving it from the high shelf, you knock a bottle of toner off. it hits your left pinky toe. *rolls dice* you lose 1 HP.

xenophilius lovegood: best fetch quest EVER.

sirius black: so is it my turn now?

officemaster: no, shut up. remus?

remus lupin: wait, is arthur still at the front desk?

arthur weasley: yeah

remus lupin: i approach the front desk. *clears throat* “Hello, Shirley. Were there any messages for me while I was out?”

arthur weasley: “Yes, Mr. Crumplebottom. Phillip Smythe from home office called about your business trip. I put him through to your voicemail.”

remus lupin: “Good work! Thank you very much. I shall remeber this come time for your Christmas bonus.”

sirius black: is it my turn yettt???

officemaster: merlin’s balls man, yes, it’s your turn

sirius black: i attempt to seduce the visiting sales representative

remus lupin: what? you can’t do that

sirius black: sure i can, i have like 25 charisma points

remus lupin: but we’ve all got the casual friday modifier right now, and if you get a sexual harassment lawsuit we can’t advance to the next meeting until the litigation phase is over

sirius black: i’m chaotic neutral, what were you expecting?

remus lupin: besides, arthur’s receptionist character found out she was married in the last session, remember? you would have to roll a natural 20

arthur weasley: hey, no metagaming–sirius’ character wasn’t there at the time, he was trapped in the fax machine

xenophilius lovegood: i still don’t think that’s how fax machines actually work

officemaster: sirius?

sirius black: yeah, arthur’s right, i couldn’t have known about that. *shrugs* i attempt to seduce her.

remus lupin: oh my god i hate you so much right now

sirius black: get bent lupin

remus lupin: you wish

sirius black: i don’t have to

officemaster: *rolls dice* *winces*

sirius black: what? what happened?

Yeah! What happened?!

Sirius botched both his action and his save. His character was fatally bear-maced in the face. Remus’ character was forced to spend an entire session on sensitivity training for his remaining employees. Sirius returned in the following session as a dual-class IT guy and paladin. 

but real question: who’s the officemaster??

I just came across this again and I realized I never addressed this very important question: the officemaster is and always was Aberforth.






i realize i’m maybe like, the Nichest of markets here, but i really really really desperately want to watch further adventures of Diana Prince, Curator of Antiquities™

…like, imagine the interdepartmental meetings

Diana: we have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of very early minoan kamares ware. i feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to–

some marketing dipshit: look, we can’t get people in the door for pottery. we need another big show, like can you get a vermeer or–

Diana of Themiscrya, Amazon, God-Killer, Daughter of Hippolyta: pottery is important

some marketing dipshit, lightly pissing himself: i agree

Not only will I join you in the Nichest of Markets, but I am suddenly stricken by the dismay that can only come from a depressing awareness of how niche this market is.  Does anyone…like…have fic?

“Here you are, Ms. Prince,” says the mail currier. He grabs the tablet from his back pocket, presenting it to her. “If you’ll just sign right there…”

“Of course,” says Diana. She scrawls her name, and the currier dutifully passes over the package. It is reasonably sized, stocky, with the words FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE written along the edges of the Wayne Enterprises logo. “Same time next week?”

The currier laughs. “More than likely, I’d wager. Weird that Mr. Wayne has taken a sudden interest in supplementing the Louvre with his own private collection, but hey. Billionaires, right? Who knows what they’re thinking.”

Diana thinks of the museums in Gotham, filled to the brim with some of the world’s most beautiful antiquities and artifacts, and about Bruce Wayne who cares not a lick about any one them but takes ownership of them anyway for the sole purpose of having free exhibitions open to the general public five days a week. She smiles, agrees, and waves the currier off, until the next time. 

She is examining the dish (Uruk period, likely kiln production, as it is a strange almost-blue tint that suggests a high-temperature controlled oven), when Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts knocks lightly on her half-open door and lets herself in.

“New delivery?” she asks, nodding to the dish.

“Yes.” Carefully, Diana puts the dish back in its box. She makes a note to have one of her assistants come by later to pick it up and send it down to the lab for testing. “The meeting?”

“Oh, uh.” Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts clears her throat and looks briefly at the floor, embarrassed. Diana lets her have a moment, used to the reaction. “Yeah. Want to walk together?”

Diana is already walking around her, throwing her disposable gloves in the garbage as she passes. “Sure,” she says anyway and waits for Isabell by the door. Isabell jolts when she realizes Diana is already ahead of her. Diana politely chooses to ignore that. 

It’s only when she is seated besides Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts and Haruki in charge of philanthropic outreach that she remembers: Timothy in charge of corporate marketing is going to be at this meeting as well.

She nearly groans aloud, already anticipating his tirade on diminishing returns this financial quarter and his chart predicting a downward trend of attendance among younger visitors. 

Timothy in charge of corporate marketing does not disappoint. After the heads of every department say their piece and give the customary updates, Timothy in charge of corporate marketing has an assistant hold out a poster board detailing their declining revenue and inability to attract attention. For nearly half the appointed time for the meeting, he speaks, pointing back to his poster board at regular intervals with frothing enthusiasm.

“Well,” says Diana, when Timothy in charge of corporate marketing finally allows the department heads to speak. “We have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of Early Minoan Kamares ware. I feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to—”

“Ms. Prince,” Timothy in charge of corporate marketing interrupts. He is smiling, not unkindly, in the way a headmaster might at a particularly rambunctious child. Diana feels her fist curl, despite herself. “We can’t get people in the door for pottery.” He laughs. “No, no, we’d need something bigger. Grander, you understand. Something that will hold our visitors’ attention. Perhaps if you could get a Vermeer, yes? I hear you’ve been receiving packages from Bruce Wayne himself, and he has a lovely piece, if I do remember correctly. Maybe try asking—” 

The way Timothy in charge of corporate marketing says asking, Diana knows that is far from what he actually means. She is about as likely to follow through with that as she is to ask Timothy for anything.

As calmly as she can, she places both hands atop the table and uncurls her fists. Below her fingers, a minuscule part of the grained wood chips. She extends her spine, sitting straight, and beside her, Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts swallows. 

“Tim,” she cuts in. “For how many quarters have our returns, as you keep reminding us, diminished?”

Timothy in charge of corporate marketing blinks. He squints. “Well, I would say for nearly six quarters now.”

“Hm. And remind me, how long have you been with us here?”

The room has the same quality of quiet that Diana is intimately familiar with, bordering on dangerous. 

“Nearly six quarters, if memory serves,” says Diana. 

“Now, Ms. Prince,” Timothy in charge of corporate marketing blusters, “if you are implying that somehow I am responsible for the state of our returns—” 

“I am not implying anything. Just perhaps that big shows and singular centerpieces are not the way for us to go. Isabell?”

Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts jolts and looks up at her, wide-eyed. “Yes?”

“Didn’t you recently acquire some newly discovered Jomon pieces?”


“Of course, it’s a matter of opinion, but if we were to redesign the gallery to incorporate the different wares from different eras and locales, it might encourage our visitors to learn more about them and could even encourage repeat visits.”

“I suppose…” allows Timothy in charge of corporate marketing. 

Diana stares at him, the same way she might have once stared down her own mother to let her leave Themyscira or even looked down on Ares as he tried to tempt her to his side. She stares at him, and remembers with a certainty that has been granted to her after years in man’s world that he is but a man and like any man, he is fragile and breakable, when she is not. 

“Pottery is important, Tim,” she says.

Trembling, unable to meet her eye, Timothy in charge of corporate marketing agrees.


pottery is important, tim

June 14 2017

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A strong, independent dog who don’t need no man. (via seattlecitymisfit)

Reposted byPewPowfafnirscaveTerodalrunkensteinrugiapsyentistnaichprymitivep0rnoTullfrogmeianodifferencem4r1oaniuszkaKryptoniteMeeresbrautteijakoolLykouLykouadremdicocokejunkieSlothschlachtorosp856v2pxCarridwenzEveRszyderanitroventBlackRAtSsomethingzerocool911wymiotsogibzieloonomidychterFyrstfretkanothingiseverythingwonkoLanouTamahlstarbugaszmoglamcizrobicmalinkejarlaxleNukularlordminxjosefinecalaveriteemememleniwabulacoffeebitchszpaquslucanusconnlasairekeliasniiksszarakoszulaNocephyaLilaLolamimi07michalkoziolrockinbunnypdr320cudapatsssypzingQudaciherrpterodactylTigerleZerthinStagebluecosmonautamteluMrCoffedeathisjustafeelingpalenieszkodzizdrowiukoszmarekstragglerv3bsodorke
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