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[studylikeknope]

[mentalillnessmouse]

[ID: Three blocks of color - blue, sky blue, and a pale purple - have text written across them. They say, “your mental health is a priority. your happiness is a priority. your existence is a priority.”]

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

Get yourself friends that will break curfew and sneak out a window because your having a bad day

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

Im 14 i shouldnt want to die

I shouldnt want a car to hit me. I shouldnt want to overdose on pills. I should be happy, but the adults i am suppose to trust have let me down they have ruined the world im supposed to want to live in. And then get Mad because we’ve noticed

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

Canadians are a mythical creature with syrup as blood and the have moose antlers. They also can talk to animals.they never fight because they are just to sweet. They are my favorite mythical creature

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

My friends and I often discuss what we’d do if we suddenly became disgusting rich, and the usual stuff is that we’d use our money to fix some human rights issues we’ve been following and to help our loved ones etc. and then generally live a modest life but in a nice house so

I’ve started making my friends also choose one ridiculous thing they’d want to have if they were like absolutely bonkers rich. One of those rich people things that would be reported about in tabloids and it would be so superfluous it would nauseate the masses.

Personally I’d have someone wash my hair and choose my outfit every morning. I truly think the height of luxury is having someone to do ur hair and makeup. My friend would have an owlery.

What would your nauseatingly rich indulgence be

[lyriumandbiotics]

I would have an indoor salt water pool that was heated, and it would be made to look like a lagoon.

[mokeonn]

I’d buy the mona lisa and keep it hidden, then if i ever get diagnosed with a terminal illness or i just wanna die i’ll eat it.

I’ll forever be known as the man who ate the mona lisa

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

#also if i dont get rich i’ll just break into a museium and eat it anyway 

[your-rose-colored-boy]

an indoor movie theater equipped with the latest Dolby technology

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

A bouncy house thats actual a house

[hogwartsderp-deactivated2018100]

Hufflepuffs and Slytherins reblog we gotta find each other

[arrrghhhhhhhh]

It’s almost like I strategically placed these so as not to get a bingo

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

THE VOICE CHANGES HAPPENED DIDNT YOU HEAD THEM

[clarenecessities]

there’s something endlessly hilarious to me about the phrase “hotly debated” in an academic context. like i just picture a bunch of nerds at podiums & one’s like “of course there was a paleolithic bear cult in Northern Eurasia” and another one just looks him in the eye and says “i’l kill you in real life, kevin”

[crockpotcauldron]

[ossacordis]

I heard a story once about two microbiologists at a conference who took it out into the parking lot to have a literal fistfight over taxonomy. 

[winchysteria]

have i told this story yet? idk but it’s good. The Orangutan Story:

my american lit professor went to this poe conference. like to be clear this is a man who has a doctorate in being a book nerd. he reads moby dick to his four-year-old son. and poe is one of the cornerstones of american literature, right, so this should be right up his alley?

wrong. apparently poe scholars are like, advanced. there is a branch of edgar allen poe scholarship that specifically looks for coded messages based on the number of words per line and letters per word poe uses. my professor, who has a phd in american literature, realizes he is totally out of his depth. but he already committed his day to this so he thinks fuck it! and goes to a panel on racism in poe’s works, because that’s relevant to his interests.

background info: edgar allen poe was a broke white alcoholic from virginia who wrote horror in the first half of the 19th century. rule 1 of Horror Academia is that horror reflects the cultural anxieties of its time (see: my other professor’s sermon abt how zombie stories are popular when people are scared of immigrants, or that purge movie that was literally abt the election). since poe’s shit is a product of 1800s white southern culture, you can safely assume it’s at least a little about race. but the racial subtext is very open to interpretation, and scholars believe all kinds of different things about what poe says about race (if he says anything), and the poe stans get extremely tense about it.

so my professor sits down to watch this panel and within like five minutes a bunch of crusty academics get super heated about poe’s theoretical racism. because it’s academia, though, this is limited to poorly concealed passive aggression and forceful tones of inside voice. one professor is like “this isn’t even about race!” and another professor is like “this proves he’s a racist!” people are interrupting each other. tensions are rising. a panelist starts saying that poe is like writing a critique of how racist society was, and the racist stuff is there to prove that racism is stupid, and that on a metaphorical level the racist philosophy always loses—

then my professor, perhaps in a bid to prove that he too is a smart literature person, loudly calls: “BUT WHAT ABOUT THE ORANGUTAN?”

some more background: in poe’s well-known short story “the murder in the rue morgue,” two single ladies—a lovely old woman and her lovely daughter who takes care of her, aka super vulnerable and respectable people—are violently killed. the murderer turns out to be not a person, but an orangutan brought back by a sailor who went to like burma or something. and it’s pretty goddamn racially coded, like they reeeeally focus on all this stuff about coarse hairs and big hands and superhuman strength and chattering that sounds like people talking but isn’t actually. if that’s intentional, then he’s literally written an analogy about how black people are a threat to vulnerable white women, which is classic white supremacist shit. BUT if he really only meant for it to be an orangutan, then it’s a whole other metaphor about how colonialism pillages other countries and brings their wealth back to europe and that’s REALLY gonna bite them in the ass one day. klansman or komrade? it all hangs on this.

much later, when my professor told this story to a poe nerd friend, the guy said the orangutan thing was a one of the biggest landmines in their field. he said it was a reliable discussion ruiner that had started so many shouting matches that some conferences had an actual ban on bringing it up.

so the place goes dead fucking silent as every giant ass poe stan in the room is immediately thrust into a series of war flashbacks: the orangutan argument, violently carried out over seminar tables, in literary journals, at graduate student house parties, the spittle flying, the wine and coffee spilled, the friendships torn—the red faces and bulging veins—curses thrown and teaching posts abandoned—panels just like this one fallen into chaos—distant sirens, skies falling, the dog-eared norton critical editions slicing through the air like sabres—the textual support! o, the quotes! they gaze at this madman in numb disbelief, but he could not have known. nay, he was a literary theorist, a 17th-century man, only a visitor to their haunted land. he had never heard the whistle of the mortars overhead. he had never felt the cold earth under his cheek as he prayed for god’s deliverance. and yet he would have broken their fragile peace and brought them all back into the trenches.

my professor sits there for a second, still totally clueless. the panel moderator suddenly stands up in his tweed jacket and yells, with the raw panic of a once-broken man:

WE! DO NOT! TALK ABOUT! THE ORANGUTAN!

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

IM DEAD

[mambofivehargreeves-deactivated]

Anyways there’s a website that tells you whether Thanos killed you or not when he wiped out half the planet

[its-hp-bitch]

snape snape severus snape snape snape severus snape

[hana-the-starry-eyed-fool-deact]

DuMbLeDoRe

[nxcrofancy]

RON. RON. RON WEASLEY.

[fandom-asylum]

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione Hermione Hermione!

[immoralvegetable-deactivated201]

Harry potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Harry Potter!

[its-hp-bitch]

Snape! Harry! SNApe! HARry! SNAPe! HARRy! SNAPE! HARRY! SNAPE! HARRY!

[moist-astronaut]

DUMBLDOOOOOOOOOORE

[bunnybatshit]

Herrrrrmione!

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

Voldy voldy voldy voldy voldemort

[fkgperiod]

Parenting

If your child is scared when you come upstairs, you’re not doing it right.

If your child cries because of you, you’re not doing it right.

If your child is afraid of being him/herself because of you, you’re not doing it right.

If you’re child never tells you what they are insecure about because they know you’ll mock them, you’re not doing it right.

If you’re child prefers going to school than staying with you, you’re not doing it right.

If your child can relate to one of those things, or something similar, you’re not doing it right.

[scrumptiouslyinstantstudentstuff]

This is important

[just-shower-thoughts]

If con is the opposite of pro, then Congress is the opposite of progress.

[writing-prompt-s]

While putting your favorite condiment on a sandwich, you accidentally make a magical occult symbol and summon a demon.

[teawitch]

You silently take two more slices of bread out of the package and make another sandwich. You put it on a plate with a handful of potato chips and hand it to the demon. He takes the sandwich, smiles and vanishes in a puff of demonic smoke. The next day you get that job promotion you were after. There was no contract. No words spoken. You owe nothing. But every now and then, another demon pops in for lunch. Demons don’t often get homemade sandwiches. 

[geeko-sapiens]

Can I keep this going? I’m going to keep this going.

It would be a little annoying, if they weren’t so nice about it. You don’t know what you expected demons to be like, but you certainly didn’t expect them to be nice about it. There’s no demands, no voices like wailing babies, no blood on the walls (well, there was that one time, but Balthazak was very apologetic about the whole thing and cleaned it up right quick). Just the occasional demon stopping by for lunch. In fact, you could almost forget that they weren’t just ordinary people, the way they act. Nice people, too. 

You start talking with them, as time goes on. In the beginning you carefully pick your words so they couldn’t be spun to even imply a contract or reference a soul, but when they seem politely eager to have a normal chat, your words become a bit looser. You even begin gossiping with them - turns out, demons have breakroom gossip just like anyone else. You listened to Rek’ththththtyr’s account of Drokyarix’s torrid affair with Irkilliz, and Ferkiyan didn’t even know what Drory was doing behind his back, poor dear, and you kept quiet and let Ferkiyan cry on your shoulder after Drokyarix finally broke up with him (the shirt was a bit of a loss, demon tears are ruinous to cloth, but Ferkiyan’s a good sort and you couldn’t just turn him away). You even managed to talk him down from going and starting a fight with Irkiliz, who didn’t even know that Drokyarix was in a relationship, and who was almost as horrified as Rek’ththththtyr. 

After that event in particular, you start to get a sort of a reputation as a place where a demon can come to relax, talk, and - of course - get a sandwich. Your sandwich-making skills have really improved since this whole thing began. Your luck seems to have improved too - you’re not sure if you can attribute the whole thing to the sandwiches and the reputation, but you don’t really want to know anyway. 

One day, there’s a bright flash of light from your living room. Nothing unusual in itself - most of the younger demons haven’t quite got the style of their elders, and usually just go for a materialization in a flash of hellfire over your fireplace - except that it’s white instead of the usual red. You look up, and who do you see but an angel looking at you with a spear in his hand. Shrugging, you tell him to sit down and you’ll have a sandwich for him shortly, and meanwhile he can just tell you all about what’s on his mind. This clearly is not at all what he was expecting, but after a moment’s thought, he decides to take you up on your offer and starts talking. Apparently, he’d been dispatched to take care of some demon summoner in the neighborhood, and while he’d evidently got the wrong house the right one shouldn’t be hard to find - have you seen anyone practicing satanic rituals nearby? You laugh, a little, and tell him that you don’t really summon them, they just come on their own. They do like their sandwiches, and they’re quite nice folk. 

The angel’s jaw drops, and you remind him to chew with his mouth closed. 

[just-for-ship]

And I’m going to take this even further. Here we go.

It took a bit of explaining with the first angel to arrive. Telling him about the first accidental summoning and then how the demons just started stopping by around lunch time on your days off. But once he understood what’s been going on (and finished his sandwich) he nodded solemnly and said he would get this all straightened out “upstairs.”

You eventually start getting more angels coming around for lunch. Sometimes they bring a small dessert for you to share after the sandwiches, and the dishes are always magically clean and back in the cupboard when they leave.

You lean that angels don’t have much of their own drama, but they do know all the truths about human tabloid drama and they’re more than willing to dish on what the Kardashians have been up to.

The first time an angel and a demon show up for lunch on the same day is a little tense. You tell them that ALL are welcome for lunch in your house and that you would prefer it to be a no-conflict zone. It takes a while for them to settle, but eventually they grow comfortable enough to start chatting. Which is when you learn that because demons are technically fallen angels, you’ve been having two sides of an estranged family over for lunch regularly.

Soon, you have an angel and a demon at every lunch. Old friends and estranged siblings meeting up to reconnect over a sandwich at your dinning room table. You help the ones who had a falling out reach an understanding, and you get to hear wild stories of what the “old realm” was like.

One day, as you’re pulling out the bread and cheese, a messenger demon appears. You greet him and tell him a sandwich will be ready soon, but he declines. He is here on behalf of Lucifer to ask if it’s alright by you for him to “enter your dwelling so as to meet with his brother Michael over sandwiches.”

A little stunned, you agree. The demon disappears and you prepare three sandwiches, setting them at the table.

When Lucifer (the actual devil!) appears in small puff of smoke, you welcome him and ask what he’d like to drink. As you’re fetching the apple juice, a blinding flash of light comes from the dinning room indicating Michael’s arrival. You grab a second cup and walk back in to find a tense stand off between the brothers. You set down the cups and juice while calmly reminding them that this is a conflict-free zone, and if they are going to fight, please take it to an alternate plane of existence.

They don’t fight. They sit and enjoy the sandwiches and talk about what happened. You learn a lot about why creation started, what the purpose of humanity was and what it’s grown to be. You only have to diffuse two arguments. And at the end when it’s time for them to leave, they hug each other, agreeing to meet up again somewhere else.

In the following weeks you have the usual assortment of demons and angels stopping by. The regulars ask how you’re mom is doing and if your friend is settling in to their new apartment nicely. At some point during each visit though, they ask if it’s true. Did Lucifer and Michael really come for lunch? You tell them yes, but won’t say what was talked about. They’re disappointed, everyone likes the gossip, but they understand. Before they leave, you ask each angel and demon about this idea you have for the summer, what if you had a barbecue on the back patio for everyone who wanted to come? They think it sounds like a fun idea.

[mxrage8]

Yep, I’m picking up, here we go!

Everyone had a lot of fun at the barbecue. There wasn’t much fighting, but some sparks and noises made you grateful your neighbors were either out of town or older/deaf. There was a great three-legged race and a small football game with parties on all sides involved, you’d never fixed so much food before.

Then, two latecomers. Angels and demons alike gasped in shock and parted like the Red Sea (Which, apparently, is a VERY exaggerated story) to let them pass.

You smile warmly and ask what they’d like. Both decline to answer that, looking at each other awkwardly. The demon bows its head to let the angel speak first.

God Himself heard the fun and wanted to come join the barbecue.

You look at the messenger demon, the same one as before, and as you insist that “Oh, you really should stay this time!”, you’re told that Lucifer ALSO wants to come to your barbecue.

You look between the two. You tell them you won’t deny one or the other, but that they must keep in mind that this is a neutral zone and you won’t have their conflicts interfere with the atmosphere.

Both vanish momentarily (after each taking a plate of food). There’s a long, awkward silence.

Lucifer arrives first, flash of fire in the firepit, coming over to get a burger. He doesn’t look… displeased. But he’s not necessarily happy.

There’s a beautiful flash of white light and a rainbow, and then God descends onto your back porch. Your long-dead flowers spring back to life in His presence. Shit, now you actually have to go back to taking care of them.

The two regard each other from across the backyard. There’s still complete silence from the crowd of angels and demons.

You clear your throat. “What do you two want to eat? I have burgers, hot dogs, chicken, and some vegetarian alternatives.”

They slowly look at you. You return each of their gazes. “This is a no-conflict zone. We’re all here to have a good time at a good barbecue.”

More silence. Then, Lucifer dishes himself a burger and goes to prepare it the way he wants. God approaches calmly and looks over your vegetarian palette (Not the best, but it would do in a quick pinch, you found out just yesterday that some of the attendees would be vegetarian), fixing Himself some food as well.

As this goes on, the others begin to relax, and soon, everyone goes back to having a good time. The food is great, desserts brought by your angelic guests really compliment the meals you cooked, nobody starts sacrificing anybody or arguements (except later there’s a massive water gun/water balloon fight that knocked Michael into the fire pit and got ashes all over his bRAND NEW ROBES, DROKYARIX! but everyone laughed it off and carried on), and as you sit on your porch, taking in the sights, you wonder to yourself if you should do this kind of thing more often, and if you would have had this situation any other way.

Nope, you decide, when God hits Lucifer with a water balloon as he’s trying to refill his super soaker, you really wouldn’t have this any other way.

[the-void-is-sapphic]

This is so wholesome

[cruelfeline]

If by “skipped town” you mean “brought Waltolomew Strickler back to us, answering the prayers of many,” then yes: yes, she did.

Best sudden show of loyalty ever.

[spicyh0tramen]

I just read “Hufflepuff isn’t a house where you can stick people who don’t fit in the other houses”

But the thing is? It literally it is, Helga Hufflepuff said she would take the rest.

She preferred the loyal and hardworking for her house, but felt that everyone should have a chance. Not a Gryffindor, a Slytherin, or a Ravenclaw? Not a loyal, hardworking Hufflepuff either?

Well that’s okay. Helga Hufflepuff founded her house believing anyone should be given a chance at Hogwarts. Those four archetypes aren’t all that matter, and if you don’t fit any of them Hufflepuff will still welcome you. 

Godric/Rowena/Salazar were perfectly happy to say “You don’t fit into our houses, you can’t come to Hogwarts” and it was only Helga who was willing to say “You might not fit my ideals of a student, but you can still be in my house”

Like. I think that’s super cool. I don’t like it when people shoehorn Hufflepuff into being one and the same like the rest of the houses, sure, loyalty, hardworking, kindness.. that’s the priority.. but it’s truly a place for everyone. And that’s where Hufflepuff’s kindness shines the most.

‘I’ll teach the lot And treat them just the same.’

‘Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest and taught them all she knew’

Hufflepuff’s pride as a house comes not only from loyalty, hardworking, toil, and kindness, but from diversity. Something the other founders did not realize the importance of.

[hufflepuffs-say-fuck]

I’ll reblog it again because it’s just perfect

[badjokesbyjeff]

An atheist dies and goes to hell.

Keep reading

[actualsasori-moving]

I’m gonna share the most important thing I’ve ever learned.

it doesn’t mean a damn thing if they love you if they’re not treating you well. loving you doesn’t mean they’re good, and it doesn’t mean they deserve you, and it doesn’t mean they treat you properly.

it doesn’t mean fucking SHIT if bad parents love you. it doesn’t mean SHIT if a bad partner or bad friend loves you.

love doesn’t mean shit on its own.