Cinders & Embers

M: This week, I discovered a terrible Earth disease called ‘loneliness’.

O: Do many people on Earth suffer from this illness?

M: Oh yes, sir. And how they suffer.

lyannasnow:

sprtsnght:

cuntywhitelady:

UGH this is fucking beautiful

This is well done.

well, this is now my favorite video ever

tamorapierce:

owning-my-truth:

rubyvroom:

Sorry for the extremely lengthy post on your dashes but this is so important

SHARE THIS!

Don’t let them get away with this.  Share the tumblr; share the information. If we can’t trust even the state government, let’s go to the federal.  JUSTICE FOR MIKE BROWN AND FERGUSON.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle-Earth.

- George R.R. Martin  (via indisposablehero)

This is one of the most beautiful quotes I think I have ever read. I love it, and I will treasure it for my entire life.

(via draodoir-mna)

dichotomized:

This poem, oft attributed to an anonymous Native American, was actually written by Baltimore housewife Mary Frye in 1932. Mary was moved by the grief of a young Jewish woman staying with them who’s mother fell ill and died in Germany. The woman was unable to attend her mother’s funeral due to rising anti-Semitic sentiment back home and was upset at not being able to visit the grave. The poem later became popular with families of servicemen killed in war, especially when no body is recovered.

dichotomized:

This poem, oft attributed to an anonymous Native American, was actually written by Baltimore housewife Mary Frye in 1932. Mary was moved by the grief of a young Jewish woman staying with them who’s mother fell ill and died in Germany. The woman was unable to attend her mother’s funeral due to rising anti-Semitic sentiment back home and was upset at not being able to visit the grave. The poem later became popular with families of servicemen killed in war, especially when no body is recovered.

sorcyress:

EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO REBLOGS THIS WILL GET THE FOLLOWING IN THEIR INBOX.

  • A BRIEF ORIGIN STORY
  • A SUPERPOWER OR THREE, MAYBE FOUR DEPENDING
  • A SUPERHERO OR VILLAIN NAME
  • YOU MIGHT ALSO GET AN ARCHNEMESIS WHO HAS REBLOGGED THIS ALREADY

AND YES I MEAN EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO REBLOGS THIS. UNTIL, SAY, AUGUST 2015. A FULL YEAR. LONG ENOUGH, RIGHT?

LET’S DO THIS THING.

Like Marchek, I would really prefer to know who my archnemesis is if at all possible. 

mjstarling:

^^ Me after my 6th coffee of the morning ^^

Source: GIRL GENIUS by Professors Phil and Kaja Foglio
[TARVEK: huff… how… How are you even still MOVING?
ZOLA: HATE! Hate and drugs! Lovely, LOVELY DRUGS! I’m a BEAUTIFUL, CHEMICAL, KILLING MACHINE!]

mjstarling:

^^ Me after my 6th coffee of the morning ^^

Source: GIRL GENIUS by Professors Phil and Kaja Foglio

[TARVEK: huff… how… How are you even still MOVING?

ZOLA: HATE! Hate and drugs! Lovely, LOVELY DRUGS! I’m a BEAUTIFUL, CHEMICAL, KILLING MACHINE!]

faeriedroid:

reblog for healthy polyamory ignore for unnecessary heterosexual love triangles

adiduck:

azzandra:

adiduck:

I just woke up and have not finished my coffee yet and I’m about to go do yardwork and nobody’s online for me to babble to, so I am babbling here. You have been warned.

It occurs to me that I would read the crap out of a series of vignettes about…