(Reblogged from ellenkushner)

John “I’m damned tired of getting knocked about the head” Granby



895. Muggleborns wonder why there’s a large group of friendly, teenage ghosts around Hogwarts. They’re led by a funny boy with red hair and one ear who likes to joke around with Peeves, and he always says that they’re Dumbledore’s Last Army. 


(Source: cirquereveur)

(Reblogged from evelynegrey)
(Reblogged from shy-of-the-moon)

My Least Favorite Trope (and this post will include spoilers for The Lego Movie, Guardians of the Galaxy, The Matrix, Western Civilization, and—cod help me—Bulletproof Monk*.) is the thing where there’s an awesome, smart, wonderful, powerful female character who by all rights ought to be the Chosen One and the hero of the movie, who is tasked with taking care of some generally ineffectual male character who is, for reasons of wish fulfillment, actually the person the film focuses on. She mentors him, she teaches him, and she inevitably becomes his girlfriend… and he gets the job she wanted: he gets to be the Chosen One even though she’s obviously far more qualified. And all he has to do to get it and deserve it is Man Up and Take Responsibility.

And that’s it. Every god-damned time. The mere fact of naming the films above and naming the trope gives away the entire plot and character arc of every single movie.

Elizabeth Bear - My Least Favorite Trope (via feministquotes)

This. So much this. I cannot stand these movies anymore, I’m so fucking done with this trope. 

(via astolat)
(Reblogged from astolat)

(Source: reddit.com)

(Reblogged from whatdiscworldtaughtme)

Midshipman Hornblower was walking the lee side of the quarterdeck, as became his lowly station as the junior officer of the watch, in the afternoon, when Midshipman Kennedy approached him. Kennedy took off his hat with a flourish and bowed low as his dancing master had once taught him, left foot advanced, hat down by his right knee. Hornblower entered into the spirit of the game, laid his hat against his stomach, and bent himself in the middle three times in quick succession. Thanks to his physical awkwardness he could parody ceremonial solemnity almost without trying.

"Most grave and revered signor," said Kennedy. "I bear the compliments of Captain Sir Ed’ard Pellew, who humbly solicits Your Gravity’s attendance at dinner at eight bells in the afternoon watch."

"My respects to Sir Edward," replied Hornblower, bowing to his knees at the mention of the name, "and I shall condescend to make a brief appearance."

"I am sure the captain will be both relieved and delighted," said Kennedy. "I will convey him my felicitations along with your most flattering acceptance."

Both hats flourished with even greater elaboration than before, but at that moment both young men noticed Mr. Bolton, the officer of the watch, looking at them from the windward side, and they hurriedly put their hats on and assumed attitudes more consonant with the dignity of officers holding their warrants from King George.

Mr. Midshipman Hornblower, C.S. Forester

Would you just look at these dorks. <3

(via verecunda)

(Reblogged from lights-out-tonight)


Neil Young, Bob Clark and Ken Koblun backstage at Flamingo Club in Fort William, April 1965.

Photo via Thrasher’s Wheat

(Reblogged from foreverneilyoung)


När neddragningarna börjar märkas i matsalen.

(Source: daddyjared)

(Reblogged from gymnasielaerarna)

Ska vi avsätta Björklund 14 september?

(Reblogged from ihuvudetpaenmasterkatt)