urbanefigment
She’s the symbol
Of resistance
And she’s holding on my heart like a hand grenade
– She’s a Rebel, Green Day
crowleys-bentley
occasional-owl
This is canon, ok?
canonbiwonderwoman
tinsnip
Queen songs you should know:
- “Bicycle Race (I Want to Ride My Bicycle)”
- “Another One Bites the Dust.”
fuckyeahgoodomens
Beneath the thunders of the upper deep, as Aziraphale and Tennyson both knew, Far, far beneath in the abyssal sea/The kraken sleepeth.
And now it was waking up.
Millions of tons of deep ocean ooze cascade off its flanks as it rises. “See,” said the navigator. “‘Three thousand meters already.”
The kraken doesn’t have eyes. There has never been anything for it to look at. But as it billows up through the icy waters it picks up the microwave noise of the sea, the sorrowing beeps and whistles of the whalesong.
“Er,” said the navigator, “one thousand meters?”
The kraken is not amused.
“Five hundred meters?”
The factory ship rocks on the sudden swell.
“A hundred meters?”
There is a tiny metal thing above it. The kraken stirs.
And ten billion sushi dinners cry out for vengeance.
good-omens-fanart
bitterbrokenbones
Why do they want us to walk when we can fly?
Click and drag the top image for something predictable. :’D
Happy New Year, everyone! <3 This is a little late but I’ve been genuinely quite ill since the new year began so there it is. X’D I always associate new beginnings with Good Omens, so here are my faves. <3
vivthetgirl
shitpostsampler
me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit
mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters
me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU
Hey OP? What the FUCK does this mean?
decay exists as an extant form of life
That’s a terrifying answer, have a nice day
@shitpostsampler this feels up your alley
Prism and Fry are definitely being lazy bums due to the Blaze and Praise weekend, but-
This is one of our most requested to-dos, and we feel like @itsafckingsnickersbar just nailed it. There is literally nothing we could do to make it better. We’re folks who rarely tread where others have been (yeah, there’s exceptions), but look at this. It’s perfect.
Fry thinks she spooked the OP on Facebook a little, whoops, apologies (we 100% lurk in a lot of the snark based cross stitch groups) … But! You can get the border wreath here on Etsy, and insert whatever font makes you happy.
Happy stitching!
pratchettpatricianpages
“I’m very happy at the Post Office, you know,” said Moist, and realized that he sounded defensive.
“I’m sure you are. You make a superb postmaster general,” said Vetinari. He turned to Drumknott. “Now I’ve finished this I’d better deal with the overnights from Genua,” he said, and carefully folded the letter into an envelope.
“Yes, my lord,” said Drumknott.
The tyrant of Ankh-Morpork bent to his work. Moist watched blankly as Vetinari took a small but heavy-looking box from a desk drawer, removed a stick of black sealing wax from it, and melted a small puddle of the wax onto the envelope with an air of absorption that Moist found infuriating.
“Is that all?” he said.
Vetinari looked up and appeared surprised to see him still there. “Why, yes, Mr. Lipwig. You may go.” He laid aside the stick of wax and took a black signet ring out of the box.
“I mean, there’s not some kind of problem, is there?”
“No, not at all. You have become an exemplary citizen, Mr. Lipwig,” said Vetinari, carefully stamping a V into the cooling wax. “You rise each morning at eight, you are at your desk at thirty minutes past. You have turned the Post Office from a calamity into a smoothly running machine. You pay your taxes and a little bird tells me that you are tipped to be next year’s chairman of the Merchants’ Guild. Well done, Mr. Lipwig!”
Moist stood up to the leave, but hesitated. “What’s wrong with being chairman of the Merchants’ Guild, then?” he said.
With slow and ostentatious patience, Lord Vetinari slipped the ring back into its box and the box back into the drawer. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Lipwig?”
“It’s just that you said it as though there was something wrong with it,” said Moist.
“I don’t believe I did,” said Vetinari, looking up at his secretary. “Did I use a derogatory inflection, Drumknott?”
“No, my lord. You have often remarked that the traders and shopkeepers of the guild are the backbone of the city,” said Drumknott, handing him a thick file.
“I shall get a very nearly gold chain,” said Moist.
“He will get a very nearly gold chain, Drumknott,” observed Vetinari, paying attention to a new letter.
“And what’s so bad about that?” Moist demanded.
Vetinari looked up again with an expression of genuinely contrived puzzlement.
“Are you quite well, Mr. Lipwig? You appear to have something wrong with your hearing. Now run along, do. The Central Post Office opens in ten minutes and I’m sure you would wish, as ever, to set a good example to your staff.”
-Making Money, Terry Pratchett
yedrindax
deepintheshadyglen