randomslasher:

emily84:

liltimmys:

nasfera2:

I wish Americans fucked with more foreign music. You don’t have to know the language to appreciate a good record. Folks in other countries listen to our music and don’t speak a lick of english. Music needs no translator

yall wont trick me into listening to kpop

You can try Radiooooo.com - The Musical Time Machine!!

choose a country, pick a decade, and GO!!

you’ll get an endless streaming of songs (ad free!).

I personally found myself loving 1970s Ghana, Senegal and Cote d’Ivoire! Also 1920s and 1970s Japan for sure! Cambodian music: spectacular. Love Armenia and Mali as well. I’ve been told 70s Germany is weird and 30s Algeria is cool but I haven’t gotten around to those yet. Italy’s 1960s is bomb ofc but I’m biased ;)

This is the best website anyone has ever shared.

(via cypresstiger)

vexwerewolf:

xeansicemane:

prokopetz:

“Isn’t it weird that [thing humans commonly eat] is poisonous to literally every domesticated animal” I mean, there’s a pretty good chance that [thing humans commonly eat] is at least mildly poisonous to humans, too. One of our quirks as a species is that we think our food is bland if it doesn’t have enough poison in it.

Humans have a really weird mix of mundane superpowers.

We’re not fast and don’t have a lot of natural weaponry but we’re bizarrely tolerant to a broad range of toxins to the point that one toxin is considered a morning necessity for some to perform at work. Gotta love us.

(via brain-depositary)

courtneefallonrex asked:

Hi Neil,

This is a Terry question, not a GO specific question; I recall while we were both on twitter, just after Terry passed, you corrected a fan who had presumed he was a whimsical, silly lil guy. You said Terry was angry, perhaps even said he was always angry. My question is, as his close friend, did you ever observe how Terry avoided being consumed by anger during his life? I too am quite angry and rather debilitated by it of late, and would enjoy a dose of your pointed advice if it suits you.

neil-gaiman:

Here’s an article I wrote about that before Terry died, and my answer to your question is in there.

Neil Gaiman: ‘Terry Pratchett isn’t jolly. He’s angry’

From the archive: Terry Pratchett may strike many as a twinkly old elf, but that’s not him at all. Neil Gaiman on the inner rage that drives

the Guardian

orcboxer:

those first couple weeks after escaping a time loop have gotta be disorienting as all fuck. all those little cues that used to tell you what’s about to happen are now triggers that cause you to brace for something that isn’t coming. you have to relearn the permanence of death – hell, you have reacquaint yourself with the entire concept of finality altogether. everything keeps changing but it never changes back and you keep having to remind yourself that this is normal. “it won’t reset anymore,” you echo to yourself, over and over and over, like a broken record, like you’re still trapped in a loop, like someone who escaped the time loop but was doomed to bring it into the future with them

(via peppermintquartz)

tacticaltaxonomist:

Declutter Tumblr

The new layout it a whole mess. Thankfully Xkit can already help with a bunch of this! I’m sure it’ll give more options soon.

Vanilla Tumblr:
(I have marked in red what can be removed. The tabs can be set not to stick, so you will really only see them at the top of your dash. Empty box on the left for hidden notifications and shop sparkle, i just didn’t have any. I’m EU so no Live for me).

Xkit Rewritten Tumblr:

The settings I use:

(via wrathofthestag)

sweetoothgirl:

Mini Fruit Tarts with Vanilla Pastry Cream

cristalplanetheart:

(via sakrogoat)

therobotmonster:

naamahdarling:

underthehedge:

cryptonature:

I bet octopuses think bones are horrific. I bet all their cosmic horror stories involve rigid-limbs and hinged joints.

To an octopus, a human is like a thinking being with blood-stained coral growing inside it.

I need to sit down and breathe into a bag for a while.

Its parts were obscenely limited in their movement. Each hinge could open or close only a small amount before reaching its limit, yet by working in concert they demonstrated unexpected dexterity, moving and manipulating the objects before it with cunning equal to my own. It was more torso than limb, as though a seal had been stretched and warped, given long grasping tentacles filled with bones like bars of coral.  It’s head was most horrid of all, flat and ovoid, jutting out too small from the trunk as though it belonged to a beast half its size.

The thing rose upon its lowermost appendages, two long trunks that ended in flat, protruding flippers that branched into stubby, grasping mockeries of a sucker. It’s triple-hinged uppermost limbs were similar, but the ends branched into five smaller tentacles, each with three hinges of their own.

I froze, as the thing’s gaze fell upon me and it opened its hideous fish-jaw, filled with thick, many-shaped teeth like white shards of stone, and spoke in a shrill, discordant babble. I felt its horrid dry grip on my flesh, as those hinged appendages closed on me like the legs of a crab.

I felt the heat of its body, tasted its noxious, oily flesh through my touch, and prepared for the end, and all went black as a swoon overtook me.

I awoke, some time later, the cold and comforting water, banished back to the comfort of the sea and the dark. I should be grateful I am alive. I should cast aside the experience like a half-remembered dream.

I shall never again go swimming in search of lights above. The last thing I recall before the darkness took me was my right eye popping free of the thing’s grasp enough to see into the distance for one brief moment.

I saw thousands of lights.

(via inneskeeper)