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Secretly Reading At Midnight.

@secretlyreadingatmidnight

This place is honestly a hot mess, it's not organized or anything, why are you here?

the number of times i think about the full body viking skeleton i saw in the museum is ridiculous like when i say it haunts me i mean it actually haunts me

every time i remember the questions are endless — what was his name? what did his mother call him? what sounds did he wake up to? what sounds did he die to? how old was he when he died? how old when he fell in love? how old when he first fell out? who cried with him and laughed with him? who cried for him? how many miles of separation can i draw between my ancestors and him? was he kind, serious, jokey? was he sombre or impulsive? was he chatty and good-humoured or a cantankerous asshole? like…i have never stopped thinking about this.

the fact that at one point in time this was a living breathing person. with memories and petty hates and the dumbest jokes. and friends he loved. and the fact that he probably at some point burst out into drunken song or punched someone in an argument or GOT punched in an argument or tripped into the mud while his friends pissed themselves laughing or or or or…countless or‘s into infinity

and the fact that before all of that this massive skeleton was tiny toddler (was he scared of the dark? did he squabble with his siblings? did he have siblings?) who may or may not have hid behind his mother or probably got hoisted onto an adult’s shoulders and in his little mind thought this person was the strongest human in the world and that he could hold the whole sky up just by standing there like that and as long as he was up there he was king of the world or could be.

like…what am i supposed to do with this? what does ANYONE do with this? how are you supposed to cope with the enormity of this while at the same time realising just how tiny and fleeting our lives are? there is literally more than a THOUSAND years between us & ALL of it has been pinched down to a glass case not even 2 inches thick like…i’m losing my mind.

I got this feeling when I saw some petroglyphs on the side of a cliff like.. a human made those. That human felt all of the emotions I feel they went through the same universal human experience and they each had vivid internal lives and memories. Wild.

ok this is next level and i honestly…i honestly can’t

during my prehistory module we got given Roman pottery and roofing slabs that had thumb prints in the handles and I put my thumb over those thumb marks and cried in the middle of the tutorial 

I do pottery, and it’s one of my favorite things about the medium: that you can often see the shape of someone’s fingers in the surface. I love it when someone just shoves a finger somewhere while throwing, and leaves it there as a place for YOU to put your finger. Little thumbrests on top of mug handles is a fave. “How did you make those ridges like that on the outside? How did you make that spiral on the bottom?” “With my fingers.”

All of this. 

At Wells Cathedral in England the stairs down from the chapter house have had dips worn into their stone by centuries of human feet taking the most direct route up and down. 

Thinking about the immense distances between the stars makes me panic, but looking back into human history gives me peace. 

Reminds me of when we got to see this exposition on ancient egypt. 

I was like, “Wow a real life papyrus!”

but then my mom said, clearly moved, “Wow, that’s someone’s handwriting.”

That moment when History becomes People.

“Why study History? If you don’t like knowing the models of every airplane and gun ever made for ww2 that’s how history nerds are”

Oh there is so much humanity reaching out to us to take us by the hands and say

“We dreamed of you and hoped you too would be!”

I’ve worked in Museum archives and regularly handled human bones. It really does hit you, the immensity AND fragility of human life. There was one skull of a Roman girl, probably 15-18 years old. So small and seemingly insignificant. But holding her, looking through where her eyes used to be… she was someone. What dreams did she have? What regrets? What made her laugh? Cry? 

We’re all going to die one day. Maybe someone 2000 years into the future will hold the remains of me or you. I hope they understand there was a life within us, and to us, that was the whole world. 

i love the way the fandom talks about jaime lannister because whether u love or hate him, everyone is just like: “stinky loser!” “bad cat!” “greasy old man!” but he’s literally one of the most beautiful and majestic characters in canon and most of the trashing done to his appearance is from his own perspective because he’s dysmorphic as hell. even covered in his own shit, the mother of the boy he crippled calls him beautiful. even on death’s door and with an infected amputated hand, the woman he’s tormented called him half corpse half god. he’s drenched in pretty privilege, the only actually ugly thing about him is his personality

i think this is also why brienne works so well for him, because she’s lived her whole life being judged for her own appearance, so of course she knows looks don’t mean shit. the only man she’s ever loved, she loved him for seeing her heart. brienne is basically a unit of measurement for jaime’s redemption, because the better he becomes as a person, the more she likes him.

just thought about jaime lannister again. fuck. that rat monkey bastard. he is privileged, he’s richer than most bloodlines combined, he looks like a girl, he’s almost 40, he has mommy issues and daddy issues and sister issues and brother issues, his name means ‘i love’, he’s been unserious all his life, he used to be the best swordsman in the land, he is disabled, he is blond, he’s used to crossdress so that his twin sister can play with swords while he learned to sew, his fursona is a lion, he is greying, he’s in love with a girl he’s been bullying the entire time they’ve known each other, he wants to be topped by her, he used to fuck his sister, he’s washed up, he has body dysmorphia, he fought a bear, he’s the only reason his disabled brother is alive, he wants to save everyone, he can’t save anyone, he watched his children die, he killed his king, he kept his promises

She's gone

This is her husband. I can hardly even type right now.

She was killed in action today.

My soulmate is gone.

I had a bad feeling and messaged her today. I can't believe she will never answer.

I saw her IRL only twice, she stayed under my roof, ate my borscht and tried to make friends with my dog. The dog didn't trust her at first so she said "I have to keep coming and she'll warm up to me." And now she will never come here anymore. She was my only friend. K., I can't imagine the pain you're feeling right now.

Only a few days ago we've discussed what will happen if she's killed in action. I said I would donate a large sum to her battalion to avenge her death. I will do that. I don't know if I can disclose where exactly she served or her real name...even after she's gone. Please, to avenge my friend, donate as much as you can using one of the links in my pinned post.

I'm in denial. I can't even cry, I want to believe in miracle. My brain tricks me into thinking this is not real.

This is what she said about her possible death:

Please, be angry.

She was the most incredible person I have ever met.

I'm going to bring this blog out of hiatus for this. I don't care that it has nothing to do with what I used to post about. I need you all to know that there is still a war going on and it's killing good people.

I didn't know ykp-chk well. I followed her blog and interacted with her a few times. Once was near the start of winter, she asked for advice on how to keep a fire going so she could stay warm through the night, and I asked my mother for tips and shared them with her. Once was to send her a poem I'd written for the ЗСУ.

She was a combat medic. She was German and chose to come to Ukraine to help. I can't imagine the pain her loved ones are going through now. All I can do is offer my condolences, and for what it's worth, my remembrance.

Please, read through her blog. Read her words. Read about the absolute hell she went through on the front. And why. Read about what she was fighting for.

I wish I had the bravery and the strength to fight like she did, but I don't. So I did the least I could which is donate in her honour. Please do the same if you can.

And here is the poem I shared with her. I feel like it has a different meaning now.

Lullaby for a soldier

Someday there will be no mines. You hold the thought inside you like an icon enshrined behind closed eyes. In the evening lull, you can see it: the fields are yellow, ripening, the sky is blue and empty, the sea is endless, the bridge underwater like a prisoner's chains, shattered. The houses are mended and lived in, the junction of stones - between old and new - like ancient, long-healed scars. The engines of tractors are humming, in the street a busker is singing a song about red guelder roses. There are no more men to bury, and no more calls to rise. No more. You can rest.

Breathe: here the air smells sweet, not of ashes, but of Mama's cooking. She is slicing watermelon by the window. No ducks swim on the river but a dog is running up to you through the grass, and his fur is soft underneath your soft fingers, calluses from holding weapons now gone. You can close your eyes; you are safe. You can lie among sunflowers, on fertile soil where your once-enemies lie forever. You can dream of the dark-eyed girl on a train returning from Poland, you can dream of rings, of hearts interlinked, of faith that no one can break.

You can sleep, soldier no longer a soldier. Sleep, in this land with no war. Sleep - do not listen to the distant explosions. Sleep - let the jets turn to cranes. Sleep. You are weary from fighting for freedom. You will win it - but for now, sleep. Sleep, soldier not meant to be a soldier. Someday there will be no mines.

-

Вічна пам'ять 🌻

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nintenerd64
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assoc-of-free-people

That’s the face of a man who has been working with that dog for over a year to keep it from jumping on people.

And that’s the face of a dog saying to the man I’m not touching you.

Anonymous asked:

Dick did not name himself that just to be a perfect angel 24/7 😒

Exactly, exactly!!! I have a firm headcanon that as soon as he was old enough to understand what it meant to be called a dick he just sort of paused, then told himself, “Oh. Oh. I’m going to have fun with this.” And from then on he becomes a master at causing problems on purpose.

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I know that some British people take umbrage at Americans calling the Great British Bake Off relaxing, but it's just because GBBO is such a different kind of stressful from American baking shows.

American baking shows will be called something like "Cupcake Knife Fight", there's horror movie lighting everywhere and dramatic stings every 5 seconds. All of the contestants are shit talking each other and fist fighting over the one single deep fryer provided by production. It will show the judges all whispering to each other at their super villain table overlooking the whole kitchen, and one will be like, "Oh my god. Everyone look at Brenda right now. She's straight tanking it." And it will cut to Brenda, who is running around covered in flour and crying and also bleeding for some reason. Then you get a clip from an interview with one of the contestants, and they're like, "I really need to win this. Without this award money, I'm gonna need to close my restaurant, sell my dad, and live out of my car. AGAIN." Then the giant digital doomsday clock overhead lets out a horrid klaxon, the judges tell half of them that their cupcakes taste disgusting, and one of them gets eliminated and sent to walk down the dramatically-lit shame hallway never to be seen again.

Meanwhile GBBO is in a lovely, brightly colored tent, there are delightful and friendly hosts/jesters there to keep everyone entertained, and all of the B Roll is of like... a bumblebee going into a flower, or a lamb running in a field. And yes, there will be moments where someone will mess up their timing or something, and they'll be looking at their bake through the oven door like, "oh gosh I don't think this will rise in time!" Then they stand up to find Paul Hollywood directly behind them ominously. His creepy whitewalker eyes will glow white, and he'll say something like "the 12th of June. 2035. Drowning." And his eyes will go back to normal and he'll walk away. Then the baker gives a playful grimace to the camera and says "that didnt sound great, did it?". Cut to a sweet looking older woman sipping tea on a stool and she says "oo I do hope that Prue enjoys the taste of my sugary, sticky baps!". Then, at the end, someone gets a gold star for doing good, and the loser of the episode gets in the middle of a giant group hug. You see all of them at the end of the series at a giant carnival with their families and the post credits informs you that all of the contestants have become a Partridge Family-style traveling band and stayed friends forever.

God what i wouldn't give to have the sheer stamina and work ethic of my next door neighbor. Every morning, 8am, the hammers and drills come out. he's putting up shelves. he's feeding cables through walls 6 inches from my pillow. He's putting together furniture. He's making smoothies. He's 74 years old. Does it piss me off? of course. But i have to admit that he is clearly also the superior being. I need The Substance but to turn me (anemic 20-something with the constitution of a consumptive Victorian child) into this absolute beast of a man

Met this same neighbor today as he was effortlessly hauling his bike up 4 flights of stairs having just finished a 20 mile bike ride and i (masked and bedraggled) explained that I'm on the tail end of a cold but venturing out as I've run out of food, and he was like "Aww no!! 🥺🥺 If you ever need me to pop down to the shops and do some shopping for you just let me know!!" like Steven, that is SO kind, truly, but I have to draw the line at you doing Meals on Wheels for me right now. what i actually need is for you to come with me on a Back To The Future style adventure and somehow make you my biological grandpa because my current genes are simply not pulling their weight. can you leave me your zest for life in your will, Steven. Steven please

Oh my gosh. I just found this website that walks you though creating a believable society. It breaks each facet down into individual questions and makes it so simple! It seems really helpful for worldbuilding!

Heads up that this is a very extensive questionnaire and might be daunting to a lot of writers (myself included). That being said, it is also an amazing questionnaire and I will definitely be using it (or at the very least, some of it).

Bookmarking this…

This inspired me to see if Patricia C. Wrede’s Worldbuilding Questions are still online, and not only are they, they’re on the exact same page I saw them on in 1998. Somewhere there’s a binder of the Word doc I made of all of them and the answers I filled in for Baby’s First Fantasy World

I think 50 shades of grey did so much damage to BDSM writing in fic and like not because I think fic writers were taking inspiration from it, but we did get a lot of detailed explanatory posts about all the different ways in which those guys were Doing It Wrong, which is not in and of itself a bad thing but since then everybody got so hung up on making sure everybody in their fics was nothing like 50 shades of grey and actually demonstrates that yes I do understand the principles of safe sane and consensual and the traffic light system and safewording and aftercare and checking in that now everybody fucks like a 101 handbook and I think we've only just recently started to recover from it. love me a dynamic where it's two repressed freak idiots who accidentally invent BDSM all on their own and have to come up with the strangest most deeply harmful ways of navigating that situation

Anonymous asked:

you should watch Cinema Therapy’s most recent YT vid about Hiccup and his Mum I think it’s so interesting (it also made me sad)

oh i’m sat (the answer is yes)

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so that was 30 minutes WELL spent

“both of these parents attribute the worth of their child to: are you a chip off the old block, or not?”

“Valka this is all beautiful…do you see how you’re only truly valuing Hiccup now because he shares your views, not because he’s your child or he’s a human being and has worth in and of himself?”

“‘cause what would have happened if she had met Hiccup but he took after Stoick? it’s like oh, you’re like your father, i’m glad i left. that’s the implication!”

“your favorite composer’s favorite composer is John Powell”

(very good material for my future Stoick lives and Valka comes back home fic) (and run past the rivers, ofc)

Technically true.

He got the job.

He takes his job seriously.

Prof Rad over on youtube dubbed the Wolf Hunter comic (click here)

Go check it out and give them some support! :) (also the end killed me haha) ₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎

The farmer sheared the sheep, and it was used to make a gift for Wolf Hunter, so…

Wolf Hunter goes to the village markets.

Wolf Hunter and his conga line of sheep.

Wolf Hunter was looking for them for a while.

can’t wait to get fucking smashed while hot potato plays in the background 

The constant droning sound of everyone at the bar singing big red car, as I lay in the bathroom, curled up like a fetus. My entire body trembles and shakes, ice cold sweat makes my skin stick to the cold tile below me. I keep vomiting up a foamy substance and everything hurts. I can hear the siren song of hell approaching as my mortal life rapidly approaches the end and it’s arriving in a big red car

canon: they died
fanfic: fUCK YOU

Canon: and so they never met

Fanfic: here’s a funny story

Canon: There was tension and pining, but they never even kissed.

Fanfic: Actually,

Canon: Torture the cinnamon roll.

Fanfic: Torture the cinnamon roll.

Canon: When they traveled they stayed in separate rooms

Fanfic: AND. THERE. WAS. ONLY. ONE. BED!!!!!

Canon: … and they were roommates.

Fanfic: oh my god, they were roommates…

Canon: They were international assassins who assassinated assassins.

Fanfic: But hot DAMN wait till you hear about this cafe they opened

Canon: They had a coffeeshop

Fanfic: but they were ASSASSINS

Canon: they were mortal enemies and attempted to murder each other on multiple occasions

Fanfic: bUT THEY GOT MARRIED AND ADOPTED CHILDREN

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marvelmisha

Everytime I reblog this has a new addition and it’s the best

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ladyyinburgundy

Canon: They were straight

Fanfic: Lol

THE LAST ONE IS THE BEST ONE

I love fanfic so so so much.

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destiel-is–endgame

Canon: Am I joke to you?

Fanon: No, just a disappointment.