Watching Studio Ghibli movies always makes me want to clean the house and cook for my family and do my schoolwork. All of the main characters are so upbeat and cheerful about doing work and it’s inspiring.
A friend of mine pointed out that Miyazaki turns chores into smth rewarding and fulfilling as opposed to a lot of western children’s movies where chores are used to punish kids. As a clean freak I relate more to his movies than anything else lmao
The first time I called the CDC, I said that I wanted to talk to someone about possibly designing a zombie virus. …So every time I came up with a new iteration of Kellis-Amberlee, I would call back and say, “If I did this, this, this, this, this and this, could I raise the dead?” And every single time they would say, “No.” And I’d say, “OK,” hang up, and go back to working. After about the 17th time, I called and said, “If I did this, this, this, this, this, this and this, could I raise the dead?” And got, “Don’t … don’t do that.” At that point, I knew I had a viable virus.
Seanan McGuire / Mira Grant (via
)
(chuckle) Persistence in research pays off.
(via dduane)
#somewhere there is a CDC employee #who is both all out of fucks to give #and experiencing a mild level of perpetual background anxiety about maybe being complicit in the future zombie apocalypse #like I’m just imagining this one specific person fielding all of seanan’s phonecalls #maybe two a day over a period of weeks #and progressing from bemused politeness #to genuine amusement #to steadily escalating panic #’what if she’s not really a writer?’ #’what if I’m actually helping a supervillain??’ #’oh god I’m not paid enough for this’ #’I LIKE VIRUSES NOT THE GENERAL PUBLIC’ #’PLEASE TAKE ME OFF PHONE DUTY OH GOD’ #lowering their head gently into their cupped hands with the phone braced between ear and shoulder #’ma’am-’ #’ma’am we really don’t recommend-’ #’ma’am, no, that wouldn’t-’ #’ma’am please I really think-’ #’don’t… don’t do that-’ #and then she just STOPS CALLING #and after three days of radio silence this person starts discreetly checking the news for x-files-style stories about zombies #getting shit from their colleagues for their sudden fascination with trashy newspapers and trying to play it off #’HAHA YOU GUYS YOU’RE SO FUNNY’ #’YEAH ZOMBIE RACCOONS, IT’S TOTALLY HILARIOUS’ #’WHO WOULD EVEN DO THAT AM I RIGHT?’ #’IT’S NOT LIKE THEY’VE GOT US ON THEIR SIDE’ #’HAHA’ #’HAHAHAHAHA’ #*nervously wipes sweat from forehead*
(via fozmeadows)
Oh, if only it were permitted for me to hold your clasped little arms
against my neck and to bring kisses to your tender little lips.
Now, go entrust your desires to the winds, girl.
Believe me, men’s nature is fickle.
Often I lay awake in the middle of the night, love-crushed,
thinking these thoughts to myself: many are the men who Fortune raised up high
and these same men, suddenly cast down, she now presses hard.
Thus just as Venus suddenly joined the bodies of lovers
the daylight has divided them again, and if …
–
–
–
O utinam liceat collo complexa tenere
braciola et teneris oscula ferre labellis
i nunc, ventis tua gaudia, pupula, crede.
Crede mihi, levis est natura virorum.
Saepe ego cu(m) media vigilare(m) perdita nocte,
haec mecum medita(n)s: multos fortuna quos supstulit alte
nos modo proiectos subito praecipitesque premit.
Sic Venus ut subito coiunxit corpora amantum
dividit lux et se …
corpus inscriptionem latinarum iv. 5296
archaeologists found this poem inscribed into a wall in the entranceway to a house in pompeii (ix. 9 f., now blocked to the public due to extensive damage to the block). pompeii has an extensive and well preserved tradition of graffiti that serves as an excellent source for how poetry, literature, and song functioned in the everyday roman’s life. for this reason alone CIL iv. 5296 is worth considering. general consensus among classicists is that this poem is a mish-mash of misquotations from “high literature” like propertius, contemporary folk songs, and possibly some original composition. however, what i find much more exciting about this poem is what it might reveal about the lives of women in rome, especially women who loved other women.
my translation doesn’t explicitly carry this through, but the genders of various adjectives in the original latin reveal that both the speaker of this poem and the love interest to whom the poem is addressed are women. feminine grammar and vocabulary is used to describe both of them (perdita for the speaker, pupula for the love interest). in all likelihood this could be the only extant piece of love poetry in the roman world written by a woman for a woman! it’s amazing!! of course, scholars have tried to weasel around the possibility of a “lesbian” reading of the poem. some think it’s a piece of friendly advice from one gal pal to another, some think it’s a man speaking to a woman. some even propose that the speaker is an artificial character created by a male author/poet/graffitist.
while it’s certainly not unprecedented in roman poetry for men to write from the perspective of women, they usually do so in the context of a larger narrative. at least, they signal the fact that they the author are separate from the female persona they assume for the purpose of writing. besides, assuming that the author is a woman opens some really interesting avenues for interpretation of the piece.
the use of diminutive language (braciola, labellis, pupula; “little arms,” “little lips,” “little girl”) is specifically concentrated into the first portion of the poem. this leads one to believe that such vocabulary is not the poet’s natural tendency, but an intentional move. women are often depicted in roman literature as typically using these blanditiae (essentially flattering baby talk distinguished by diminutives) in romantic contexts. the artificially constructed language of the opening leads me to believe that a female author might be taking a jab at this assumption, parodying male assumptions of women’s speech (and thus writing) before moving on to the rest of her poem.
another roman cliche about women and love is that they are flighty. in fact, the imagery of winds blowing away promises or desires is commonly evoked by male love poets when they lament the unfaithfulness of their women. the author of this poem takes up that imagery and gives it a spin, asserting that it is men (virorum) who cannot be trusted. the fickleness of men is then immediately contrasted with the sleepless nights of the ever-faithful female speaker, who, crushed by love, wishes that she could have the opportunity to give the unconditional love a man could not. this instability is further underscored when the author invokes the goddess fortune, who flings her (masculinely gendered) victims from the heights of success to the depths of despair.
kristina milnor argues in graffiti and the literary landscape in roman pompeii (from which i paraphrased heavily) that this hyper-awareness of gender roles in roman poetry and erotic discourse may point toward a female author. “an additional proof, and perhaps a more interesting one, is the ways in which throughout the poem she marshals and redeploys negative stereotypes about women to frame her suit: from the lisping diminutives in the opening lines … to the winds which will carry away not a woman’s faithless promises but her hopes for an enduring love affair, to the ‘natural’ instability which, it turns out, marks the lives of men rather than women … a female poet may (indeed, must) have a different relationship to poetry and poetic discourse from her male counterparts.”
(via tinycatfeet)
AU where McGonagall puts her foot down and says ‘you’re going to give Lily and James and Sirius and Remus and Peter’s boy to WHO?’ and proceeds to destroy every argument Albus has by saying ‘you don’t want him raised so he’s revered and pampered? Fine, give him to me, I’ll raise him.’
She would be strict and firm but Harry would never doubt that he was loved and important; just no more than anyone else.
Mama McGonagall AU 2k15
I’m crying?
Baby Harry growing up on the Hogwarts grounds.
The paintings on Baby Watch when he learns how to crawl.
The ghosts watching him during naptime.
All the teachers reorganizing their class schedules so someone can watch Harry.
Baby Harry and Hagrid.
They’d have to refit the charms on the school when he hits his terrible two’s because he somehow can get the stairs to move at his whim, and he once stranded a group of 5th year Ravenclaws on a landing for two hours.
Four year old Harry *loving* Professor Flitwick and his charms, floating fairy lights and flower fish.
Two year old Harry babbling in Parseltongue and accidentally finding the Chamber of Secrets.
The Quidditch teams argue over who gets to teach Harry how to fly only for McGonagall to find out one day and give ALL of them detention.
Harry catching a big and being miserable and McGonagall shifting into ac cat and curling up and purring next to him to settle him down.
Harry getting to meet Remus.
Harry and PEEVES.
Summer vacations to Scotland, Harry knowing every inch of Hogwarts like the back of his hand, Harry growing up as keeper of Hogwarts from the start.
Harry being utterly destroyed by the idea that when he *really* gets to go to Hogwarts (nevermind he’s been sitting in classes since he was five) he’ll have to choose a House.
Harry at 11, standing in the Great Hall, vehemently denying the Sorting Hat’s attempts to put him anywhere.
Doctor Who returns with a new season on September 19!

















