i want a show called Man Vs. Wilde where someone is put in the jungle with oscar wilde and has to survive not only the elements but also wilde’s random attacks and massive ego
Mann vs. Wilde.
Thomas Mann’s pretensiousness and sexual repression vs. Oscar Wilde’s sarcasm and blatant queerness.
Give it to me.
Tumblr on November 1st
Look at this
I’ve never made this connection before…at the beginning of DH Hermione tells Ron and Harry how a wizard who’d split his soul could heal himself, save himself…remorse
Harry James you precious baby
I’ve read this second bit before, the whole try for some remorse thing, and thought it was just a Harry stabbing in the dark, but nO
It was so calculated
He remembered that conversation
actual, possible redemption for Voldemort
he kept that hope, however slim, that Voldemort could be saved
before they cast their final curses, after all that happened, Harry was actually trying to get Voldemort to mend himself back together
Harry james potter you compassionate jerk trying to save your mortal enemy before he utterly and finally destroys himself
Reminds me of a quote that I love: “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner who needed it most?” — Mark Twain
Harry james potter, that’s who
This is honestly the best poster I have found in a while supporting breast cancer awareness. I am honestly so sick of seeing, “set the tatas free” and “save the boobies”. There is no reason in hell a life threatening, life ruining disease should be sexualized. “Don’t wear a bra day,” go fuck yourselves. You’re not saving a pair of tits, you’re saving the entire package: mind, body, and soul included. Women are not just a pair of breasts.
i wanna feel how dogs feel when you let them go in a big field
THIS TWEET JUST MADE MY DAY. OMG RINGO.
We try to watch films together, and it starts off well, but somehow we always end up out of sync.
i cant tell you how much this cartoon means to me…
this will fix that problem :)
NO FUCKING WAY. i’ve been looking for this my whole life!!!!!!!!!, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my year 8 students had to do a budgeting activity pretending they were living out of home on $2000 a month and I find this written on there help I can’t fucking breathe
We had to do this and I was partnered with a boy whose parents are a scientist and a doctor. My family spawned the book: Top Drawer Villain - autobiography of a London criminal.
First of all, we had to choose where we would shop. He wanted to buy from Booths. “We are not buying from Booths," I snapped. "Get on Asda’s website right now." His face froze.
“A-Asda?" he whispered. "But that’s where… The Lower Classes shop.”
This was a good start.
We then had to decide on a menu. We started on breakfast. “Toast," he said.
“Toast," I said. "Great. Look, Asda has its own wholemeal—”
“Warburton’s thick-slice white bread. Nothing else. With olive oil.”
“You WHAT?" I choked. "You have olive oil, on your toast, in the morning?”
He frowned. “Who doesn’t?”
“Okay," I said, "but what will the children eat?”
He gaped at me. “The children? We have children?”
We continued. All was well until it came to what we would have on our sandwiches. We even sorted out the children’s lunch - they, of course, would get free school meals. “Yes," he agreed; "if we can’t even afford Bertolli then they can get school meals on the government.”
He asked what dressing we should have on our ham. “Nuh-uh," I said. "Can’t have ham. I’m vegetarian.”
“But I’m not.”
“Yes, but we’re married and we can only afford one sandwich filler so it has to be vege—”
“Of course we’re married! You’re devout Christian - how do you think I convinced you to have children?”
He shook his head, frowning. “Well I want ham. You’ll have to put back the washing powder - I need ham on my sandwiches.”
We continued. Finally, it was dinner. “Okay," he said, clearly thinking hard; "for dinner, we can have… Chicken nuggets and… Beans?”
“Vegetarian nuggets then. And beans.”
“We need vegetables. The children have to have a balanced diet.”
“You and your children!" he yelled, and the whole class looked around.
“They’re your children too!" I screamed back.
He leapt to his feet, shaking his head and looking distraught. “I don’t believe it - I don’t believe you! I wouldn’t have your children!”
“Please," I cried, standing up also. "Don’t—”
“I want a divorce!”
And he walked out of the classroom.
The teacher stood up and stared between me and the door through which he had vanished. “I’m sorry," I whispered, "but we couldn’t do it any more. There were just too many differences - I can’t live with someone who thinks champagne is a budget.”
I can’t wait to see this guy when he gets to university.
READ THE WHOLE THING