not language but a map

Jul 21

[video]

dawn of the planet of the apes, OR: it’s the end of the world as we know it and it’s completely, 100% james franco’s fault

image

previously on planet of the apes: james franco made a series of selfish and scientifically irresponsible decisions that the audience forgave him for because there was a Sad Dying Father and a baby chimpanzee involved, culminating in a colony of super-intelligent apes taking over the redwood national forest and, oh, right, the creation and release of an incredibly deadly virus capable of wiping out human life as we know it. (note: presumably james franco’s character in said movie had a name that was not james franco, perhaps “bill,” or possibly “chad,” but like all situations involving james franco that name has been lost to the ages, because james franco is always james franco. when cut james franco bleeds james franco. if you were to peel james franco like an onion, beneath every layer of james franco you would find yet another identical layer of james franco, coated in selfies and smelling faintly of marijuana and pretension. james franco is james franco is james franco. there is no escape. there is no relief. james franco is a bottomless pit of james franco.)

currently, on planet of the apes: james franco is dead and so is p much everybody else.

Read More

Jul 20

real talk though: how many times do you think scott has realized stiles was keeping something from him when he caught stiles frenetically humming “scotty doesn’t know” under his breath

[video]

Jul 19

calamity-physics said: have you been watching true blood this season?

ikyrian:

gyzym:

There is a book called Thief of Time by a man named Terry Pratchett, which — unrelated to this topic — I think everyone should read. And in this book, there is the following passage: “Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying ‘End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH’, the paint wouldn’t even have time to dry.”

This is how I feel about this season of True Blood.

Every week, I say to myself, “This is the week, Kady! This is the week you let your fascination with this show go gently into that good night, because you know — you know in your SOUL — that what is about to happen on your screen is going to be mind-numbing, unutterably terrible garbage.” And every week, despite this, I sit transfixed and watch. I watch the zombie vampires! I watch the irrational townspeople! I watch Bill motherfucking Compton spout the same sorry shit to the same sorry music that’s been playing for seven sorry seasons! I watch Anna Paquin struggle desperately to emote around just, god, it’s so awful, everything’s so awful.

And yet — like the hand inching ever closer to the end of the world button — I watch.

Seven seasons of this. Seven. Seasons. Of this. When I began watching this show lo those many years ago I was a different woman, younger, more trusting, unaware that fate was leading me towards staring in semi-hysterical horror at a 55 minute train wreck every week for entire summers at a time. I didn’t know! How could I know! What signs there were passed easily over my head, distracted as I was by Alexander Skarsgard’s insidiously, improbably perfect physique, and now it is far too late. I am doomed to remain here, watching True Blood, until the series (mercifully) wraps at the end of this season.

So, to answer your question: yes, god help me, yes, I am watching True Blood. But friend, oh, friend, words cannot convey how much I wish I wasn’t.

About the only thing I took from this: isn’t “zombie vampires” redundant? Aren’t all vampires theoretically zombies? Y’know, being undead and all.

YOU WOULD THINK SO YES, but this season on True Blood someone decided it would be fun to give the vampires a virus called Hep V (I truly wish I was making this up) that, as far as I can tell, causes the vampires to become weak and die within about two days unless they feed on humans nearly constantly. So, as a result of this, you have ROAMING BANDS OF INFECTED DESPERATE VAMPIRES BEYOND THE POINT OF REASON ATTACKING TOWNSPEOPLE UNDER THE COVER OF NIGHT. Hence: vampire zombies.

calamity-physics said: have you been watching true blood this season?

There is a book called Thief of Time by a man named Terry Pratchett, which — unrelated to this topic — I think everyone should read. And in this book, there is the following passage: “Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying ‘End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH’, the paint wouldn’t even have time to dry.”

This is how I feel about this season of True Blood.

Every week, I say to myself, “This is the week, Kady! This is the week you let your fascination with this show go gently into that good night, because you know — you know in your SOUL — that what is about to happen on your screen is going to be mind-numbing, unutterably terrible garbage.” And every week, despite this, I sit transfixed and watch. I watch the zombie vampires! I watch the irrational townspeople! I watch Bill motherfucking Compton spout the same sorry shit to the same sorry music that’s been playing for seven sorry seasons! I watch Anna Paquin struggle desperately to emote around just, god, it’s so awful, everything’s so awful.

And yet — like the hand inching ever closer to the end of the world button — I watch.

Seven seasons of this. Seven. Seasons. Of this. When I began watching this show lo those many years ago I was a different woman, younger, more trusting, unaware that fate was leading me towards staring in semi-hysterical horror at a 55 minute train wreck every week for entire summers at a time. I didn’t know! How could I know! What signs there were passed easily over my head, distracted as I was by Alexander Skarsgard’s insidiously, improbably perfect physique, and now it is far too late. I am doomed to remain here, watching True Blood, until the series (mercifully) wraps at the end of this season.

So, to answer your question: yes, god help me, yes, I am watching True Blood. But friend, oh, friend, words cannot convey how much I wish I wasn’t.

Jul 18

simplytonka:

lyshaeskro:

womaninthewoods:

creativeconvergency:

Midwest pride ya’ll

Home. This is home.

Midbest always.

Holla

simplytonka:

lyshaeskro:

womaninthewoods:

creativeconvergency:

Midwest pride ya’ll

Home. This is home.

Midbest always.

Holla

(Source: elias-stein, via lesfemmesdangereuses)

Jul 17

[video]

Jul 16

[video]

Jul 09

morgan-leigh:

Marvel Cinematic Universe | 91711 words | Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, various

In which Bucky is the new kid, Steve is the square who takes him in, Tony and Pepper fight over valedictorian a year in advance, Thor remains a golden god, Loki remains a drama queen, Natasha commits an act of vigilante justice, Clint somehow fails to make a your mom joke, Darcy is a Satanist, Jane is a goth, Sif is fine thank you very much, Sam climbs a tree, Peggy says no, Rumlow is a bully, and Mrs. Rogers, Mr. Coulson, and Ms. Hill are all very long-suffering.
Or: the story of the year Bucky Barnes finally learned how to talk to at least one other human being, discovered J. D. Salinger, started to try in school (kind of), got a haircut, landed a punch, almost got arrested, and kissed a boy on the mouth.

IT’S FINISHED.

God, you guys, just: read this. Morgan and I spent like 3 months outlining this bad boy in chat and then she went ahead and wrote something that went so leaps and bounds beyond the original outline that I just. Like. THIS IS A HIGH SCHOOL AU WE STARTED TALKING ABOUT BECAUSE WE WANTED ONE THAT PORTRAYED WITH ACCURACY THE TRUE (HORRIBLE) NATURE OF TEENAGEHOOD, and then it got so beautifully out of hand that there aren’t words. Read it. Go on. You know you want to.

morgan-leigh:

Marvel Cinematic Universe | 91711 words | Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, various

In which Bucky is the new kid, Steve is the square who takes him in, Tony and Pepper fight over valedictorian a year in advance, Thor remains a golden god, Loki remains a drama queen, Natasha commits an act of vigilante justice, Clint somehow fails to make a your mom joke, Darcy is a Satanist, Jane is a goth, Sif is fine thank you very much, Sam climbs a tree, Peggy says no, Rumlow is a bully, and Mrs. Rogers, Mr. Coulson, and Ms. Hill are all very long-suffering.

Or: the story of the year Bucky Barnes finally learned how to talk to at least one other human being, discovered J. D. Salinger, started to try in school (kind of), got a haircut, landed a punch, almost got arrested, and kissed a boy on the mouth.

IT’S FINISHED.

God, you guys, just: read this. Morgan and I spent like 3 months outlining this bad boy in chat and then she went ahead and wrote something that went so leaps and bounds beyond the original outline that I just. Like. THIS IS A HIGH SCHOOL AU WE STARTED TALKING ABOUT BECAUSE WE WANTED ONE THAT PORTRAYED WITH ACCURACY THE TRUE (HORRIBLE) NATURE OF TEENAGEHOOD, and then it got so beautifully out of hand that there aren’t words. Read it. Go on. You know you want to.