reblog this with the first celebrity crush you remember ever having in the tags
James Cagney, when I was four years old

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reblog this with the first celebrity crush you remember ever having in the tags
James Cagney, when I was four years old
God I miss 2013
do you feel the way I do, right now?
Anathema: How was the honeymoon?
Aziraphale: Crowley got drunk and tried to destroy our marriage certificate.
Aziraphale: He said, āgood luck trying to return me without the receiptā.
Aziraphale: I love him.
OK, I knew the shipping was going to go through the roof with this ... LOL
make me choose ā³ Ā Anonymous asked: American Gods or Good Omens?
I was so afraid theyād make hash out of one of my fave books,but no, it could NOT have been better!Ā And for the very first time I actually GET why people think David Tennant is sexy...
classic lit authors on ao3
Jane Austen: The slowburn writer to end all slowburn writers. Has a mild case of purple prose syndrome. Sets you up to think sheās using a really lame trope or cliche, but then pulls the old BITCH U THOUGHT. Gets in fights with commenters who completely miss the point of her work.
William Shakespeare: Where dick jokes meet feels. Recycles old plots that have been in the fandom for years, but always manages to put a new spin on it. That said, heās better known for good character writing than good plots. Kind of problematic, but people love him anyway. Laughs at and encourages commenters who completely miss the point of his work.
The BrontĆ« Sisters: Their fics get lots of comments but they never reply. They never leave author notes, either. They share an account, and there are talks of a collab fic coming soon. Write fics for OTPs of questionable healthiness and consent. Only ever write darkfic. Like, REALLY dark. ā¦People are getting kind of worried about them.
Edgar Allan Poe: Also only ever writes darkfic, but at this point, people have moved past being worried about him and have just accepted that heās weird, heās morbid, and we love him. Channels his feelings about his ex into his writing. It results in really good stories but everyoneās sort of like, āā¦Dude.ā
Charles Dickens: Trying to set the record for highest wordcount on ao3, and it shows.
Victor Hugo: Currently holds the record for highest wordcount on ao3.
Oscar Wilde: Only ever writes M/M. Has a BAD case of purple prose, but itās worth it if you manage to get through. His stories are either hilarious or soul-crushing. Or somehow both. People love him but know better than to disagree with him publicly, lest he destroy you with one of his infamous subtweets.
L. Frank Baum: Wrote one really well-loved story thatās among the most famous in the fandom, and itās literally all heās known for, and it pisses him off. His popular story became a multichap against his will because itās the only one of his stories anyone actually reads. He keeps trying to end it so he can work on other things, but always ends up coming back.
Arthur Conan Doyle: Feels L. Frank Baumās pain. SO much.
James Joyce: Has fascinating ideas, but takes forEVER to get to the point in his stories. Also a stoner, and it shows.
Lousia May Alcott: Writes stories for her unpopular OTP (thatās a NOTP for most of the fandom) and breaks up everyoneās favorite ships, mainly out of spite. Also kills everyoneās favorite characters, less so out of spite.
Mary Shelley: Writes incredible stories, but publishes under her boyfriendās account because sheās banned from ao3. ā¦Again.
me: hi, how are you today?
some SuitPerson: haha well you know - thank God itās FRIDAY amiright!!!!!!
me, who works the next three days and has entirely lost the concept of weekends as a time for rest and relaxation:
My favorite thing is when people sayĀ āThank goodness itās the weekend!ā orĀ āAt least itās Saturday!ā while I am ringing them up for their purchases on a Saturday.Ā
Anyone who has ever worked any sort of service job (retail, restaurant, grocery, etc.) knows this feeling.
Can you show me your cool face?
No thatās āpissedā and ādorkā, Chris, try again...
A Knightās Tale (2001)
My favorite bit of trivia: the extras didnāt speak much English and missed their cue. They were supposed to start cheering immediately. Mark Addy (Roland) shouting āYeah!ā to get the crowd going was not in the script, but it was so funny they kept it.
I wanna know how many takes it took before he didnāt get tangled in the cloak on that roll.
āI have a terrific marriage, but unlike a lot of relationships where they ebb and flow, no matter what happens you fall deeper and deeper in love every day. Itās kind of the best thing that can happen to you. Itās thrilling.ā
In case you thought the perfect man didnāt exist....
OH NO I HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE TERRIBLE MISTAKE.
(In which Darth Stitch admits that she has never seen Pride and Prejudice but is aware of the Colin Firth Mr. Darcy Thing⢠through the power of Pop Culture Osmosis. So she Googled āColin Firth Mr Darcyā and has turned her Fuzzy Blue Self into a Puddle of Squee.)
WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MYSELF??!!!
My Eggsy Muse is laughing at me and is shamelessly doing all the I-Told-You-Soāsā¦.
You really do have to see it, hon- Iāve nearly worn out my copy with how many times Iāve watched it.Ā THE best adaptation ever, and Matthew M. simply does not hold a candle to Colin.
Goodnight, Stan Lee.
There was once a post on Reddit that asked, āWhat future event would make you lose it?āĀ My answer was, āThe day I seeĀ āIn Loving Memory of Stan Leeā in the credits of a Marvel filmā. RIP and Excelsior, sir -- you will be missed, but you live on forever.
Steve Rogers leaves dishes in the sink.
In 1938, Bucky Barnes comes home from a long day at the docks and looks down at a full sink. He directs a halfhearted glare in the direction of the small lump doodling something at the kitchen table. āGoddamnit, Steve. Dishes.ā
In 2016, Steve Rogers rubs his face and drags himself into the kitchen before heading out to search the city ā the cooling trail ā again. He drops his plate into the sink. Thereās already some other things in there. Heāll get to them later, probably. When he has time. It doesnāt really matter.
He turns to go.
The shadow behind the refrigerator shifts slightly, and the Winter Soldier hoarsely whispers, āI swear to God, Steve, thereās a fucking machine for it right there.āĀ
*SHRIEKING*
** Update and a request: As a tribute to everyone who has helped us live our lives openly and without fear-- and to all the brave people working out there so...
Best first dance EVER!