Good evening! I'm an English English graduate with an interest in all kinds of fun things, and a will to find even more. I reblog whatever I feel like at that moment, including but by no means limited to: Dr Who, Song of Ice and Fire, Homestuck, Pokemon, Avatar TLA/TLK, Zelda, Final Fantasy, Dept Heaven, Whedonverse. Usually not things that specifically ask me to reblog them, though. *****************************************************

THIEF OF VOID
{ wear }
SLYTHERIN
{ wear }

 

LORD, WE KNOW THERE IS NO GOOD ORDER EXCEPT THAT WHICH WE CREATE…
THERE IS NO HOPE BUT US. THERE IS NO MERCY BUT US. THERE IS NO JUSTICE. THERE IS JUST US.
ALL THINGS THAT ARE, ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION.
AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END ONE DAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS.
LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?

Death talks to Azrael, the Death of Universes

Reaper Man, by Terry Pratchett

(via espanolbot)

'A'Tuin was crawling from the Birthplace to the Time of Mating, as were all the stars in the sky which were, obviously, also carried by giant turtles. When they arrived they would briefly and passionately mate, for the first and only time, and from that fiery union new turtles would be born to carry a new pattern of worlds.'

[x]

(Source: 3parts)

jackscarab:


The other teachers in the school were known as Stephanie and Joan and so on, but to her class she was very strictly Miss Susan. “Strict,” in fact, was a word that seemed to cover everything about Miss Susan and, in the classroom, she insisted on the Miss in the same way that a king insists upon Your Majesty, and for pretty much the same reason.
Miss Susan wore black, which the headmistress disapproved of but could do nothing about because black was, well, a respectable color. She was young, but with an indefinable air of age about her. She wore her hair, which was blond-white with one black streak, in a tight bun; the headmistress disapproved of that, too — it suggested an Archaic Image Of Teaching, she said, with the assurance of someone who could pronounce a capital letter. But she didn’t ever dare disapprove of the way Miss Susan moved, because Miss Susan moved like a tiger.
It was always very hard to disapprove of Miss Susan in her presence, because if you did, she gave you a Look. It was not in any way a threatening look. It was cool and calm. You just didn’t want to see it again.
The Look worked in the classroom, too. Take homework, another Archaic Practice the headmistress was ineffectively Against. No dog ever ate the homework of one of Miss Susan’s students, because there was something about Miss Susan that went home with them; the dog brought them a pen and watched imploringly while they finished it, instead. Miss Susan seemed to have an unerring instinct for spotting laziness, and effort, too.
Contrary to the headmistress’s instructions, Miss Susan did not let the children do what they liked. She let them do what she liked. It had turned out to be a lot more interesting for everyone.
Miss Susan held up the cardboard clock and said:
“Who can tell me what this is?”
A forest of hands shot up.
“Yes, Miranda?”
“It’s a clock, miss.”
Miss Susan smiled, carefully avoided the hand that was being waved by a boy called Vincent who was also making frantically keen “ooo, ooo, ooo” noises, and chose the boy behind him.
“Nearly right,” she said. “Yes, Samuel?”
“It’s all cardboard made to look like a clock,” said the boy.
“Correct. Always see what’s really there. And I’m supposed to teach you to tell the time with this.” Miss Susan gave it a sneer and tossed it away.
“Shall we try a different way?” she said and snapped her fingers.
“Yes!” the class chorused, and then it went “aah!” as the walls, floor, and ceiling dropped away and the desks were all hovering high over the city.
A few feet away was the huge cracked face of the tower clock of Unseen University.
The children nudged one another excitedly. The fact that their boots were over one hundred feet of fresh air didn’t seem to bother them. Oddly, too, they did not seem surprised. This was just an interesting thing. They acted like connoisseurs who had seen other interesting things. You did, when you were in Miss Susan’s class.


~ Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

"Miss Susan Teaches Time" from the Discworld Calendar 2014, illustrated by Marc Simonetti.

jackscarab:

The other teachers in the school were known as Stephanie and Joan and so on, but to her class she was very strictly Miss Susan. “Strict,” in fact, was a word that seemed to cover everything about Miss Susan and, in the classroom, she insisted on the Miss in the same way that a king insists upon Your Majesty, and for pretty much the same reason.

Miss Susan wore black, which the headmistress disapproved of but could do nothing about because black was, well, a respectable color. She was young, but with an indefinable air of age about her. She wore her hair, which was blond-white with one black streak, in a tight bun; the headmistress disapproved of that, too — it suggested an Archaic Image Of Teaching, she said, with the assurance of someone who could pronounce a capital letter. But she didn’t ever dare disapprove of the way Miss Susan moved, because Miss Susan moved like a tiger.

It was always very hard to disapprove of Miss Susan in her presence, because if you did, she gave you a Look. It was not in any way a threatening look. It was cool and calm. You just didn’t want to see it again.

The Look worked in the classroom, too. Take homework, another Archaic Practice the headmistress was ineffectively Against. No dog ever ate the homework of one of Miss Susan’s students, because there was something about Miss Susan that went home with them; the dog brought them a pen and watched imploringly while they finished it, instead. Miss Susan seemed to have an unerring instinct for spotting laziness, and effort, too.

Contrary to the headmistress’s instructions, Miss Susan did not let the children do what they liked. She let them do what she liked. It had turned out to be a lot more interesting for everyone.

Miss Susan held up the cardboard clock and said:

“Who can tell me what this is?”

A forest of hands shot up.

“Yes, Miranda?”

“It’s a clock, miss.”

Miss Susan smiled, carefully avoided the hand that was being waved by a boy called Vincent who was also making frantically keen “ooo, ooo, ooo” noises, and chose the boy behind him.

“Nearly right,” she said. “Yes, Samuel?”

“It’s all cardboard made to look like a clock,” said the boy.

“Correct. Always see what’s really there. And I’m supposed to teach you to tell the time with this.” Miss Susan gave it a sneer and tossed it away.

“Shall we try a different way?” she said and snapped her fingers.

“Yes!” the class chorused, and then it went “aah!” as the walls, floor, and ceiling dropped away and the desks were all hovering high over the city.

A few feet away was the huge cracked face of the tower clock of Unseen University.

The children nudged one another excitedly. The fact that their boots were over one hundred feet of fresh air didn’t seem to bother them. Oddly, too, they did not seem surprised. This was just an interesting thing. They acted like connoisseurs who had seen other interesting things. You did, when you were in Miss Susan’s class.

~ Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

"Miss Susan Teaches Time" from the Discworld Calendar 2014, illustrated by Marc Simonetti.

There are many horrible sights in the multiverse. Somehow, though, to a soul attuned to the subtle rhythms of a library, there are few worse sights than a hole where a book ought to be.
Someone had stolen a book.

Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett, p. 100 (via myprivatelibrary)

“I meant,” said Ipslore bitterly, “what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?”
Death thought about it.
CATS, he said eventually. CATS ARE NICE.”

'We taught her everything she knows,' said Granny Weatherwax. ‘Yeah,’ said Nanny Ogg, as they disappeared into the bracken. ‘D’you think…maybe…?’ ‘What’ ‘D’you think maybe we ought to have taught her everything we know’ ‘It’d take too long.’

Lords and Ladies - Terry Pratchett (via neeenorsbookcollection)

sushispook:

mschaos:

felinejaye:

thegreatgodum:

agentsandyquinn:

seiya234:

fuckingfuckersfucked:

Well, it’s finally finished. It was a genuinely satisfying project.I present you Ankh Morpork in the guise of Google Maps.

brb, ugly happy screaming.

WOWWIE THIS IS GREAT 

Oh gods, imagine the Disorganiser as a GPS device. 
"Bingely beep! Now proceeding along Holofernes street! In forty paces, turn left!"
"That’s a brick wall, you piece of-"
"Bingely beep! There’s no need for language! Recalculating your route."

Aw. Smegging. Yiss.
This is completely amazing.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When people shit on fandom, I really want to show them the amazingness of this.

sushispook:

mschaos:

felinejaye:

thegreatgodum:

agentsandyquinn:

seiya234:

fuckingfuckersfucked:

Well, it’s finally finished. 

It was a genuinely satisfying project.

I present you Ankh Morpork in the guise of Google Maps.

brb, ugly happy screaming.

WOWWIE THIS IS GREAT 

Oh gods, imagine the Disorganiser as a GPS device. 

"Bingely beep! Now proceeding along Holofernes street! In forty paces, turn left!"

"That’s a brick wall, you piece of-"

"Bingely beep! There’s no need for language! Recalculating your route."

Aw. Smegging. Yiss.

This is completely amazing.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When people shit on fandom, I really want to show them the amazingness of this.

snowgumfilms:

lifath:

Rincewind stumbles upon a discworld book. And then proceeds to give Terry Pratchett a piece of his mind. From Run Rincewind Run.

You know you’ve made it when you have your very own gif set. So proud.  :)