buffy: do not fight buffy. the entire show is dedicated to the fact that you should not fight buffy. she will kick your ass. do NOT fight buffy.
xander: fight xander. please just fight xander. everyone is rooting for you! if you do decide to fight xander, call me. let me watch. please fight xander.
willow: what the fuck ???? why would you fight willow. willow skinned a guy alive. do NOT fight willow. i repeat, do NOT fight willow.
giles: you could fight giles i guess, but why? he’s just a kind librarian. except for his ripper days and when he suffocated ben to death, but regardless. why would you fight giles?
cordelia: cordelia will TEAR YOU APART. not physically, but socially. she willdestroy you. do not fight cordelia.
angel: you could fight angel and you’d probably lose. but this man has already been through enough. get him some coffee. hug him. don’t fight angel.
spike: please fight spike. please just take one for the team and kick spike’s ass. he would probably kill you but i bet you could beat him up enough to give him a black eye or a scratch or something. fight spike.
faith: do not fight faith unless you have a death wish
tara: why the fuck would you fight tara??? tara is a cinnamon roll. love her. protect her. don’t fight tara. if you fight tara, i will fight you.
anya: girl was a venegance demon for over a thousand years. do not fight anya.
(Source: gone123345, via dubiousculturalartifact)
i just want a spinoff where the dursleys and the weasleys have to hang out for an extended period of time
imagine vernon and arthur having a conversation about rubber ducks
i need this to be a reality show
#omfg#vernon dursley has to live with a different wizarding family each week#first family to make him literally rip his moustache off in frustration wins a car#hp (via alrightevans)
arthur really wants the car so he asks harry what would make vernon rip his mustache off
harry’s like having flashbacks to the fireplace incident
“you’ll be fine mr. weasley, just be yourself”
“maybe bring george”
(via lupinatic)
I want to see Greek gods in the modern era.
I want to see Zeus in a tailored suit and shaggy beard, a walking disparity of the loud, brash, post-graduate frat boy variety who can’t pass a woman on the street without catcalls, who has more one-night stands than he could possibly keep in his head, for whom adultery comes as naturally as the weather he predicts on the Channel 4 News—with startlingly accuracy, and an endless wealth of charisma.
I want to see Hera walking tall, six-inch heels and not a wrinkle in her skirt, knowing her boyfriend is cheating, and knowing with equal certainty that she is better, stronger, fiercer than he will ever be, a wedding planner with an eye of steel, spotting vulnerability, slicing it open, teaching every woman who crosses her path to value themselves over any mistake made in the name of men and love.
I want to see Poseidon in Olympic prime, a gym rat who skives off class to shatter backstroke records, who spends his summers lifeguarding at the city pool, who keeps an ever-expanding aquarium in his bedroom and coaxes all the pretty girls up to visit his fish, his charm as impressive as the earth-rending temper he generally uses to fuel his competitive nature.
I want to see Hades, big, hulking, quieter than his brothers would ever think to be, who dresses in neat dark clothes, and polishes his boots, and spends more time reading than fighting, who debates eventuality and ethics, who stoically reminds everyone how enormous, how terrifying, how inescapable a thing like silent inevitability can be.
I want to see Hermes in a beanie, with watercolor splashes of tattoo crawling up his arms and holes in his Chucks, a bike messenger with no helmet, no regard for the rules of the road, all cataclysmic laughter, lock-pick tricks passed along to every kid who thinks to ask, thumbing through his iPhone without a care in the world.
I want to see Athena with reading glasses pushed high on her head, six books in her bag and a switchblade in her back pocket, her clothing as neatly ordered as her mind is feverish, brilliance and temper clashing and blending, doing her best to look dignified—even when her brain chemistry rockets ahead of her well-intentioned plans.
I want to see Apollo splattered with acrylics, board shorts and Monster headphones and a beautiful classic car, busking on street corners, not because he has no choice, but because the sunlight catching on a sticker-patterned acoustic is summer incarnate, because music is blood, because the act of creation is the ultimate in sublime.
I want to see Artemis in ripped jeans and haphazard topknot, star of the soccer team, the track team, the archery team, who rides a motorcycle, and keeps a tribe of girls around her at all times, and does not care for men, for expectation, for anything but volunteer hours down at the local animal shelter and falling asleep under the stars.
I want to see Aphrodite in sundress and scarf, homemade jewelry and lavish amounts of bright red lipstick, who is excellent at public speaking, at theater auditions, at soothing bruised egos and sparking epic fights, who kisses as easily as she breathes and scrawls poetry onto bathroom stalls.
I want to see Ares all but living in the boxing ring, cutoff shirts and sweats, red-faced under a crew cut as he punches, punches, punches until the noise in his head dims, a warrior with no war, all crude jokes and blind fury, totally incapable of understanding what it is to sit, think, plan before running screaming into the fray.
I want to see Demeter with the best garden you’ve seen in your life, with a lawn care business she runs out of her garage, a teenage prodigy grown into a joint-custody single mother, who teaches her carefree daughter all she knows while scaring off the hopeful neighborhood boys with the pet python draped across her shoulders.
I want to see Dionysus with a joint in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, baggy hoodies and three-week-old jeans, who brews his own beer in his basement and greets all visitors with a fresh pack of Oreos and half-stoned theories of the universe, of birth and death and partying mid-week, because why not, man?
I want to see Hephaestus with a workshop taking up the majority of his house, whose kitchen is overrun with blowtorches, whose bathrooms are home to all manner of hodge-podge invention, who walks with a cane and forgets his laundry for weeks at a time, and strings together the most beautiful steampunk costumes at any convention at the drop of a hat.
I want to see wood nymphs fighting against climate change, waving their signs and pushing for scientific progress. I want to see epic heroes sitting down to Magic: The Gathering tournaments, poker brawls, Call of Duty all-nighters with beer and snapbacks. I want to see Medusa working a women’s shelter, want to see Achilles training for deployment, want to see Prometheus serving endless community service stints for what he calls providing necessary welfare with stolen goods.
Give me modern mythology. I could play for hours in that sandbox.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
(Based on this post)
Heterosexual: Door swings one way
Homosexual: Door swings the other way
Bisexual: Door swings both ways
Pansexual: Revolving door
Demisexual: Door is locked
Asexual: Door is actually a wall
So, have you opened your door yet?
Actually, I don’t have a door. I have a wall.
Have you tried giving it a push?
A push? It’s a wall. Pushing on a wall won’t do anything.
I’m sure your door will open once you’ve found the right key.
Walls don’t have locks…
Although maybe you should call a locksmith just to make sure everything is, you know, okay.
Nothing you are saying makes any sense. It’s a WALL.
Maybe yours is actually a pull door. And it’s okay, you know, if your door opens the other way. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you admit it to yourself.
Do you not understand what a wall is?
Did your fingers get caught in the door when you were younger? Because you shouldn’t let a trauma like that stop you from opening your door now.
No my fingers did not get caught when I was younger because IT’S A WALL AND NOT A DOOR.
You know, I don’t mind helping you with your door ;)
… I’m just going to go over here now…with my wall… yeah….
Funniest thing I’ve read all day XD
Yup, still funny!
What would demisexual be like?
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
bang:
ima do it whos with me
(via fireflyca)
my kinda boyfriend person took me to build a bear today for my birthday and he chose a sound to put in it and like he wouldn’t let me know what sound it was and he said I couldn’t listen until we got in the car so I was kinda worried bc I thought it was going to be super vulgar or sappy and gross or whatever but we leave build a bear and I press my bear’s hand and it just makes this super loud velociraptor sound.
Keep him
(Source: vangohing, via yea-lets-do-this-shit)
(Source: crownkillers, via clintashamcu97)
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!!
I actually cried a little omg
I’m actually crying a lot
same
(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)
I’m so mad because this worked
(via lupinatic)
[video]
