Monday, September 22, 2014

de-rock-goddess:

tastefullyoffensive:

[via]

IVE NEVER DONE SO MUCH DAMAGE WITH ONE FINGER 

dailydishonesty:

I swear I’m not sleeping. It’s just a rare lengthy blinking disorder.

dailydishonesty:

I swear I’m not sleeping. It’s just a rare lengthy blinking disorder.

panic/anxiety attack

chris-sid:

jaspinder:

  • breath in for 4 seconds
  • hold your breath for 7 seconds
  • exhale breath for 8 seconds

repeat once or twice more.

This causes an autonomic nervous system shift from a sympathetic (fight or flight reaction) state to a parasympathetic response.

Use this for panic/anxiety attacks, exams, presentations.

Never not reblog

lesliehowardforever:


In a scene in a roadside hamburger stand, he [Leslie Howard] was supposed to be getting around a plate of soup with a certain amount of verve. In so doing, he demonstrated himself to be one of the world’s most silent consumers of soup. His soup eating was so silent that it was almost weird. Not a slup in a plateful. Archie Mayo, the director, looked pained. “I think we ought to hear it just a little,” Mayo interrupted. “Not much, you understand. Just a suggestion of a slup. Remember, you’re hungry.” Leslie Howard put down his soup-spoon caressingly. “I think not,” he said, “You see, although the chap I’m playing is hungry, he is essentially well-bred. It would distress him to eat soup with a perceptible slup. It would distress him no end. Slupping, or blibbing, as it is referred to in some countries, would be quite foreign to his nature and…” He continued. The whole vast subject of slupping was gravely, learnedly brought forth until Mayo suddenly realized that all was not as it seemed on the surface. In fact, he was being ribbed. He snorted, then grinned. “Okay! You win! Play it– or slup it– any way you like!” He turned to the sound man. “Hey, Lou! You might as well take your mike and go for a walk– this is a silent take!” The lights went on and the camera turned over. Leslie picked up his spoon caressingly. Mayo called, “Action!” In the cathedral stillness of the set, the actor proceeded with his soup– and the careful, studied slupping could be heard to the rafters. But the sound man was far, far away and Mayo was slumped disgustedly in his chair.

(Movie Classic, March 1936)

lesliehowardforever:

In a scene in a roadside hamburger stand, he [Leslie Howard] was supposed to be getting around a plate of soup with a certain amount of verve. In so doing, he demonstrated himself to be one of the world’s most silent consumers of soup. His soup eating was so silent that it was almost weird. Not a slup in a plateful. Archie Mayo, the director, looked pained.
“I think we ought to hear it just a little,” Mayo interrupted. “Not much, you understand. Just a suggestion of a slup. Remember, you’re hungry.”
Leslie Howard put down his soup-spoon caressingly. “I think not,” he said, “You see, although the chap I’m playing is hungry, he is essentially well-bred. It would distress him to eat soup with a perceptible slup. It would distress him no end. Slupping, or blibbing, as it is referred to in some countries, would be quite foreign to his nature and…”
He continued. The whole vast subject of slupping was gravely, learnedly brought forth until Mayo suddenly realized that all was not as it seemed on the surface. In fact, he was being ribbed. He snorted, then grinned.
“Okay! You win! Play it– or slup it– any way you like!” He turned to the sound man. “Hey, Lou! You might as well take your mike and go for a walk– this is a silent take!”
The lights went on and the camera turned over. Leslie picked up his spoon caressingly. Mayo called, “Action!” In the cathedral stillness of the set, the actor proceeded with his soup– and the careful, studied slupping could be heard to the rafters. But the sound man was far, far away and Mayo was slumped disgustedly in his chair.

(Movie Classic, March 1936)

brutereason:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.
She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 
(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)
But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.
Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”
She didn’t really know who Harry was. 
But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.
He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.
Val wanted to go.
Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.
Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.
"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"
Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.
"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"
Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.
But they moved.
Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.
She knew what she was now.
(Image Source)
(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I just…want to read the entire seven-book series.

brutereason:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.

She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 

(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)

But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.

Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”

She didn’t really know who Harry was. 

But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.

He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.

Val wanted to go.

Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.

Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.

"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"

Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.

"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"

Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.

But they moved.

Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.

She knew what she was now.

(Image Source)

(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I just…want to read the entire seven-book series.

In my 20s, I was not only boy crazy, but marriage and relationship crazy. Now it’s almost the opposite. My work is so rewarding and I’m so self-centered about it that I’m kind of excited about not having to go home and ask someone about their day. Mindy Kaling (via twentysomethingvagabond)

(Source: aurorefleurs)

theladymonsters:

i’m waiting for someone to write epic meta on why the reason bucky is so popular with female fans is bc his storyline being about being stripped of agency and personal autonomy resonates particularly with female experiences

rebelholmes:

dynastylnoire:

Is being gay a choice? [x]

all y’all ” I don’t support that life style and they choose to be gay ” Christians that follow me, you’re dead wrong. Stop being hateful and examine yourselves. Why are you so invested in who is in love or having sex with someone else?

If you say “I’m not homophobic, but I just think it’s wrong” or “I’m not going to judge, I just don’t support it” or anything of that nature you can just unfollow me right now cause I have no time for your ignorant ass bullshit.

(Source: dontyoucallyourhusbanddaddy)