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Little poem for you all this Christmas. I hope you all have a lovely day, whether you're celebrating or not. Treat yourself to something yummy! ❤️

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A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad

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I’m a little upset because my husband (stressed out little Englishman, old as balls) had never heard Welcome to the Black Parade. What do you mean you’ve never. Like never heard it ever. You’ve heard it, though?? and it turned out that - NO.

And he said: well i wasn’t an American child during the millennium or indeed at any point in my existence now was I? So of course I had to explain about welcome to the black parade, I mean, REALLY. Really? Really!

Anyway unbeknownst to me it CLICKED for him and he liked it in quite a normal, I-will-hear-that-song-again way and he added it to his playlist of what he fondly believes to be similar-sounding songs, which in context affected me like a blow to the back of the head. Sir; your brain. Explain it to me please.

And he was like wdym. Sounds like Queen.

And the thing is. If you are a virgin to MCR and don’t give a damn about anyone or anything and you’re a highstrung little guy who is not an American and is a million years old, and if you spent your ENTIRE teens in a healthy outdoors attitude of underage drinking and smoking and banging other teens on unsupervised hiking trips while being attacked by swans, and other worldly and mentally healthy adventures that did NOT involve being on the internet too young, so that you genuinely wouldn’t know who Gerard Way was if he leapt out from behind a mailbox and bit you suddenly;

If MCR means nothing to you at all, net zero context, net zero interest, genuinely no nostalgia or cringe or judgement or admiration because you are NORMAL,

fuck me. Sure. It DOES - fuck me: okay. You win this Dr Glass. It does - yeah actually you’re right. It’s - it sounds like Queen.

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Planesireallywishhadworked.jpg

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I really feel like this website is sleeping on Black Doves. It's got everything: Spies! Conspiracies! Keira Knightly! Ben Whishaw! They are best friends! They do murder! There are cool POC characters! It passes the bechdel test! The plot is nonsensical! The script is dogshit! The acting is amazing! Ben Whishaw is a hit man and has a gay romance with the softest of all soft boys! No gay people die! Keira Knightly acts like a posh bitch but is secretly not that posh! Keira Knightly successfully pivots into her Liam Neeson action era! She gets covered in blood (hot)! Ben Whishaw (spoilers) shields his soft boy boyfriend from seeing bad things (also hot)! There are Christmas lights and it's surprisingly festive! Its dumb as fuck and kind of a great time!

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confirming the Ethiopian wolf pollination hypothesis seems so straightforward in theory, like just erecting anti-wolf barriers around some of the hot poker plants and seeing if those get pollinated at the same rate as the other ones, but also I feel like it could be some lab’s 6 year long project that ends up in Nature and answers more questions about wolf dessert time than I could ever think to ask. and also it would give more beautiful photos of wolves between 3 seconds and 1 hour into passionate nectar indulgence. so hopefully with the media attention they’re getting they can do that

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So, Ben is going through some things these days.

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You are a supervillain who has just captured your rival’s child. Rather than being afraid, they’re begging you to let them stay.

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My ancestors, watching me dump an entire stick of cinnamon, two cloves, an allspice berry, and a generous grating of nutmeg into my tea, sweetened with white sugar and loaded with cream, while I sit in my clean warm house surrounded by books, 25+ outfits for different occasions, and 6 pairs of shoes, in a building heated so well I have the windows open in mid-autumn:

Our daughter prospers. We are proud of her. She has never labored in a field but knows riches we could not have imagined.

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the old saints

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Midnight Pals: Dune vs Middle Earth

Frank Herbert: i'm going to tell a story about this space cocaine that lets you do super hard math and its made of worm poop, inshallah JRR Tolkien: Tolkien: i hate this Tolkien: i hate this so much

Stephen King: why do you hate dune so much? Tolkien: isn't it obvious? Dean Koontz: is it because you're a deontologist and dune is consequentialism? Tolkien: Tolkien: what

Koontz: you know, the differing schools of ethics Tolkien: what on earth are you babbling about Koontz: you know deontologism and consequentialism Tolkien: Tolkien: you don't know what you're talking about Koontz: i Koontz: i i i

Tolkien: define deotologism for me Koontz: i Koontz: i don't know Koontz: i just it on the internet Tolkien: yeah that sounds like the sort of thing someone would say on the internet

Koontz: i just wanted you guys to think i was smart King: aw dean King: dean dean dean King: we all totally think you're smart King: don't we guys? Barker: don't patronize him, steve Poe: clive c'mon

Barker: wow guess i'm the only one who respects you enough to tell you the truth dean Koontz: what's the truth??? Barker: dean the truth is Barker: Barker: ok sure we think you're smart, dean Koontz: :)

King: you couldn't say it, could you? Barker: i just couldn't say it! Barker: just look at those big puppy dog eyes

King: so why DO you hate dune so much? Tolkien: a desert planet? no rolling English hills? Tolkien: is there a single capering buffoon in the whole thing? King: i don't think so Tolkien: and not one sexy hairy foot!

Tolkien: well at least there's one thing we can agree upon Tolkien: the majesty of the lord our god Herbert: oh yeah Tolkien: all praise Anglican jesus! Herbert: Alhamdulillah! Tolkien: Herbert:

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goncharov

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Suibhne, Wild Man In The Forest

Little antlered one, little belling one, melodious little bleater, sweet I think the lowing you make in the glen. Home sickness for my little dwelling has come upon my mind, the calves in the plain, the deer on the moor. Oak, bushy, leafy, you are high above trees; Hazel, little branchy one, wisdom of hazel nuts. Alder, you are not spiteful, lovely is your colour, you are not prickly where you are in the gap. Blackthorn, little thorny one, black little sloe bush, Apple tree, little apple tree, violently everyone shakes you. Bramble, little humped vine, you do not grant fair terms; tearing me till you are sated with blood. Yew, you are conspicuous among tombs; Rowan, little berried one, sacred is your lovely white blooms. Holly, little protector, door against storms; Ash tree weapon in the hand of the warrior, baneful are you. Birch, smooth, blessed, proud, melodious, how lovely is each entangled branch at the top of your crest. Aspen, as it trembles from time to time I hear its leaves rustle and think it is the foray; Ivy, you are familiar in the dark woods.

Anonymous, twelfth century, from here

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Me on October 31: 

Me on November 1st: 

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how did they know

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County roads

Full of holes

On the route

I need to go

Road construction

Lane obstruction

Let me go

County roads