Fandoms Everywhere

mickmercury‌:

potentially controversial opinion incoming

sam vimes’s natural anti-drunkenness (being knurd) is described as seeing the world the way it actually is, without all the comforting illusions people have for themselves. having a witch’s First Sight means that “you can see what really is there.” granny weatherwax says that evil starts with treating people as things, and, often but especially vividly in Feet of Clay, sam demonstrates repeatedly that he will not stand for the golems being treated as less than people, for the poor being treated as disposable by the rich and powerful, for anyone thinking that anyone else doesn’t matter. the hiver gets inside tiffany aching and reveals the Chalk in her soul. the summoning dark gets inside sam vimes and finds a city in there. and sam vimes knows how to be selfish, to claim his city and his people as his, to protect them. witches watch over people who are frequently small-minded and ungrateful and stubborn and they do it anyway because it’s what you do, because it needs to be done; and sam vimes says pretty much the same thing every time he considers the people of ankh-morpork. and you can call him mister vimes, but only if you’ve earned it.

doylist conclusion: terry pratchett knew what his taste in protagonists was

watsonian conclusion: vimes is an urban witch and ankh-morpork is his steading gods damn it

#also important to this theory is that vimes would absolutely fucking hate this

buckysbears‌:

mehofkirkwall‌:

anotherhawk‌:

mehofkirkwall‌:

classyshippingblog‌:

anotherhawk‌:

mehofkirkwall‌:

Someone invites Crowley over for shabbos after seeing him alone in the back row during service and he spends the next few decades making sure they get new shoes and gift baskets on the appropriate holidays. 

“Yeah, that’s uncle Crowley. His granddad had dinner with our family once and now his family’s just like weird cousins. Always wears black; he’s either orthodox or his whole family’s been very goth for, like, ever” –one of the family’s kids at torah study

See, this is Excellent, but I also like “Yeah, that’s Uncle Crowley. He was at my grandfather’s father’s Bar Mitzvah. We’re pretty sure he’s immortal, but we’re deliberately Not Asking about it and it’s been driving him crazy since 1903.”

he’s got a whole backstory cooked up but *no one’s asking about it* 

also i just had an image of Crowley at a seder and they’re at least three cups of wine in and they get to Had Gadyo and crowley who is definitely on his way to sloshed is just 

“HEY I REMEMBER ZUZIM.”

“ok uncle crowley”

“why would someone sell a goat for two zuzim that’s not even enough for a cup of coffee”

“of course it isn’t uncle crowley”

this is very good.

Of course the family has questions. It’s been one of the most popular family arguments for generations, (and a couple of family members have got it right) but only when Crowley isn’t there. As soon as he’s there it would be rude and unwelcoming to bring the subject up, and whatever Crowley is he’s plainly in need of family. Besides, they might get answers and then the argument would be over.

Secondary favorite argument is what his friend Aziraphale is, when he brings the angel to dinner once or twice.

they get to the angel of death in chad gadya and crowley frowns and is like “nasty bugger. dont want to mess with him” 

they invite eliyahu in and crowley’s like “oh sup dude” and starts a “””one sided””” conversation (the older kids think it’s for laughs and the younger kids are Convinced he’s really talking to a ghost) 

whales-are-gay‌:

penguinssonamor‌:

I got to marry my wife, and our pupper was our flower girl. 2.5 years ago this wasn’t possible, as it wasn’t legal in Australia. It rained our whole wedding day, but was so worth it in the end with our phenomenal photographer.

op this looks absolutely magical

When The End comes for real, it’s just as Crowley supposed, with Heaven and Hell united against humanity.  There are a lot of people who don’t believe what’s happening, but about half earth’s inhabitants do.  And they show up for the fight.  

The army humans have guns, there are doctors wielding baseball bats and taxi drivers with tire irons.  Masses of youths are forming up with nothing but broken bottles and spite to defend themselves with.  

Lucifer scoffs at them, his beauty already luring some people from their posts.  

Not too many of them, though.  Aziraphale has to believe that…

There may be millions of angels and demons among the ranks, united for a common goal, but there are billions of humans.

Crowley and Aziraphale are in the thick of it, of course.  Of course.  Aziraphale has come into the possession of his flaming sword again, through a series of events that Crowley really doesn’t want to think too hard about.  

They stare down the Morning Star across the open expanse of the soon to be battlefield, humanity behind them, as much of it sheltered beneath their wings as they can manage.  

And then the Heavenly forces begin to sing.  

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There may be no rousing war songs in Heaven, but there’s an otherworldly intimidation that can’t help but be felt by the humans when all those angelic voices resonate in harmony.  It’s as beautiful as it is terrifying.  Singing was, after all, one of the angel’s first jobs, and they’re masters at their craft.  

“Steady…” Crowley calls out to those around him, his own core trembling a little as well, to hear the sound again after all these millennia.  

As the song ends, Heaven and Hell stand there, smug, assuming ants have no chance against the boot they represent.  Hell is likely basking in the fear it caused, while Heaven is just simply basking.

“Pity the humans don’t all speak the same language anymore…” Crowley mumbles, knowing it’ll be difficult to inspire courage back into their hearts after that.  

Aziraphale blinks.  “No…  But they do all love music…”  

“This is no time for Mozart, angel,” Crowley practically growls.

“Please, where would we even get any instruments out here?” Aziraphale gives him a prim look, “No, we need something that doesn’t require accompaniment…  Something that almost everyone on earth knows…  You there,” he says to the homeless man on Crowley’s right, “Take this.  You’re going to need it more than I will,” he says as he thrusts the handle of his flaming sword into the man’s hands.  

“Aziraphale…” Crowley hisses, “What are you doing?”

The homeless guy blinks, then hefts the sword, giving Aziraphale a stunned yet thankful smile.  

“I needed my hands free, dear boy,” Aziraphale says.

And then he stomps his foot.  

Twice.

And claps once.  

Then repeats it.  

Stomp.  Stomp.  Clap.

Stomp.  Stomp.  Clap.  

It takes approximately two and a half seconds for every human around him to catch on.  

It takes Crowley three times as long to pick his jaw up off the ground.  

“Do feel free to join in, darling, if you know this one,” Aziraphale tells him almost gleefully, determination etched in every line of his face.  

Crowley’s core trembles with something entirely different this time as the beat spreads through the entire camp of humanity.  

He joins them.  

The fervor rises quickly, pushing back fear, pulling forward the love of everything it means to be mortal that the song represents.  Some people are singing the words, some are just clapping and stomping, but the ground shakes under their feet nonetheless.  

Eventually, Lucifer realizes it was Not A Good Idea to let the humans have their little war cry.  Because even though he roars at them to silence their stomping, they’re spoiling for a fight now.  

They roar back.  

Lucifer raises his fist in the air, just about to motion the charge forward, when suddenly the homeless man with the flaming sword is standing in the middle of the open space between the armies.  

His posture straightens.  

His rags fall away.

He bears scarred wrists and a crown of thorns, in addition to Aziraphale’s sword.  

He gives a quick nod to the angel and the demon who chose the humans’ side above all else, just as he did.  With sword raised, he addresses the Heavenly and Hellish forces, who are stunned in His presence.

cwicseolfor‌:

edderkopper‌:

On the names of Odin

In Grímnismál, Odin states, “Never a single name have I had since first I fared among men.” And indeed, we have a very large number that are attested, as well as many that have no doubt been lost to time.

One of the more well known heiti is Hrafnaguð, the Raven God. In turn, his blood brother Loki is called Gammleið, “the vulture’s path.”

Because of Odin’s connection with ravens as well as his role of selecting those slain on the battlefield for an afterlife in Valhalla, I propose that it is feasible, perhaps even likely, for Odin to have been named “the raven’s path” by viking age skalds.

Another notable name is the one commonly used for him: Odin. The word it most likely derives from, óðr, is usually associated with ritual ecstasy and battle frenzy, but it could potentially extend to other forms of “madness.” For example, of his twin ravens, Huginn and Muninn, traditionally translated as “thought” and “memory”, Odin states, “I fear more for Muninn.” He embodies anxiety about not only the temporary abandonment of ritual or battle, but also a more permanent loss of history and self.

One final aspect of Odin that his heiti point to but is rarely explored is his connection to the night and blackness. He is Fjölnir, concealer, Herblindi, blinder of hosts, and Tvíblindi, twice blind. He is Grímnir, the hooded one. He presides over Yule, the longest night. Ravens are so closely associated with their color that the word is used as a synonym for black. And according to folklore, he notably rides forth with his forces, known today as the Wild Hunt only between sunset and dawn.

So basically, it’s 100% lore compliant to say that Odin is Ebony Darkness Demtia Raven Way.

I can’t believe you did this and am utterly torn between impotent fury and seizing hilarity. Wow. Wow.

space-ace-in-the-space-race‌:

We call musicals unrealistic because people randomly burst into song but I’ve been home alone for like 3 days and I start singing about what I’m doing every 5 minutes

singing in musicals: *perfect harmonies* we’re all in this together!

awesomefacialhairhusbands‌:

thecooingcat‌:

iolanthee‌:

daydur‌:

lostinthoughtsandfeelings‌:

theironman‌:

iwantcupcakes‌:

armoredsoftie‌:

ironmess‌:

rdj kissing josh brolin on the lips is such a power move. the man doesn’t give a single fuck. he’s the male protagonist archetype of this century but he will kiss as many guys as he pleases because he can and there’s nothing hollywood can do about it

i love how the media has rdj as this manly hetero Man Of Iron™ but he lives on a diferent dimension where sexuality is whatever the fuck he wants it to be. he will kiss man and women as he pleases. he will dress in pink and yellow and not give a single fuck.

MIRA–

Y SU FAVORITO–

robert has always not given a single fuck for people’s views in what he should wear and how openly affectioned he can be with men. he’s not here for fragile masculinity and heterosexuality. he will continue to kiss, hug and shower them all with love.

😍

Since the photos above focus on him kissing men, I feel the need to also add a few examples of his i don’t give a fuck outfits:

1) he’s a fashion disaster

2) all the guys getting kisses from him are literally b e a m i n g . they love it. they want more

This is on my dash again and the only day I don’t reblog this is the day I’m dead.

THIS IS MY HOLY GRAIL 

showerthoughtsofficial‌:

Trees live underground and use the above-ground part as a snorkel.