One of my favorite things about Jane Austen is that she knew the real fear wasn’t running into some terrifying Frenchman or finding your lover’s wife in the attic…it was having to spend time with someone who is slighter cooler than you are, or playing piano in front of a critical audience, or thinking a picnic will be the perfect time for your jokes but then it isn’t

they should invent blankets that make you feel warm (good) but don't make you feel warm (bad)

bloodfable enjoying their last sunrise together before the brain fight 🌅

can people reblog and make a tumblr education explanation about:

- horse plinko

- vanilla extract

- goncharov

- any tumblr culture that needs to be known

oh sure

- horse plinko is actually an old YouTube video of animation testing in which a horse falls down a plinko. many different versions of the plinko were made after that, the one with fire below, spikes, sideways plinko, horseless plinko, pov you’re the horse plinko

the joke is just that the horse is trapped in the plinko

- vanilla extract is from the let’s bake a cake poll. someone made a poll with ingredients for a cake and people would vote for what they wanted to add. vanilla extract won by a landslide. it then started being used as a poll option similarly to “I just want to see the results”

- goncharov is a fake movie from a knock off boot. the boot had written on it “goncharov by martin scorsese”. someone made a movie poster for this fake movie and the rest of tumblr created a fandom for the fake movie in which we pretend it’s real

- any tumblr culture that needs to be known is too vague so I’m just gonna explain the ones that were in the tags

- live slug reaction is from the star wars movie, people were talking about how disney keeps trying to appease both the gays and the phobes by having queer characters that can be easily taken away or ignored. in the movie two unnamed women kiss, and in the background there’s an alien slug thing looking not too amused?? so it’s face is used as live slug reaction

- I like your shoelaces is from an old tumblr post about trying to identify tumblrinas irl, about having some kind of code to verify their identity??? the suggested code was “I like your shoelaces” because it sounds nice enough for you to not weird people out but its specific enough that anyone that knows will get it.

the correct answer to I like your shoelaces is “thanks, I stole them from the president”

- destiel. not sure how to explain this?? it’s a supernatural ship. supernatural had like fifteen seasons so I cannot explain all of it but basically they were queer coded as hell, kept having romantic tension and parallels to actual couples, but the show really didn’t like it, tried to kill one of the characters, had to bring him back, made a whole episode making fun of fans, and in the finale, one of the characters confesses his love to the other, which immediately kills him.

since hell is canon in supernatural and people have died and come back before, they had to make up a way for him to die forever, which is the source of the term “superhell”.

the confession scene is the origin of the destiel news meme format

this is incredible a+ knowledge nowhere else on the internet can you find this

how could i ever leave tumblr. where else will i get glup shitto horse plinko ides of march goncharov mishapocalypse oh worm, huh? this hellsite has a personality. it lives, and that is a threat and a consolation prize. it has lore, bitch. 2014core. do you like the color of the sky. spiders georg. loss. sexymen. british food be like. live slug reaction. crab rave. kneel says the demon light. i can keep fucking going, the list is endless

”which could mean nothing” is maybe my favorite phrase of all time. where would we be without it

Oh if people need context for live slug reaction this is the original post. I'm not sure why it's blowing up today but it sure is hilarious

they should invent a tummy that doesnt hurt

this will reach the tummy hurty squad on its own

Wow!  I haven’t seen this in a looong time.  Some animation from the unaired test pilot we made for Avatar, circa 2003.

you almost drown on a run | joel miller x reader, hurt/comfort, slight angst

joel’s been quiet since the bloater. you’d never seen one before, but it was clear that he had. passing you molotovs to throw and igniting pipe bombs himself, you tried to ensure a continuous onslaught of fire towards the bloater.

and it was going down — once you ran out of bombs, you pulled out your shotgun. gathering that fire was its biggest weakness, you loaded it with incendiary shells and gripped the gun tightly. fighting against the recoil was hard, and your finger was slipping against the trigger. the bloater’s attention was on you, and after yanking an acrid pustule from its body towards joel, who dives to the side, it begins to charge.

a few shells slip through your fingers as they click into the gun. you snap it shut and fire all of them into the bloater, which is closing the distance between you by the second. your vision tunnels, and you hear joel yell something. the bloater’s hand reaches out but you fall prone to the floor, crawling between its legs and hauling yourself to your feet and sprinting heavily away. there’s a clattering, a bang, and the ground shakes mightily beneath you. you stumble into the mud. the bloater groans earthily, and there’s a puffing hiss as you roll onto your back.

pushing yourself up on your elbows, you watch the green cloud ascend over the bloater. you’re hoping that means it’s died. joel bounds over to you, boots clicking on the sidewalk as he throws his gun over his shoulder.

“get up, c’mon,” he says with urgency, a little breathless. he grasps your hand and with his other pulls you up by your forearm. as you stand, you watch over his shoulder as runner after runner, clicker after stalker emerges from around the corner. you understand his rush as you turn on your heel. he guides you with a hand on your lower back until you’re both sprinting away, low on ammo, low on energy.

you almost drown on a run | joel miller x reader, hurt/comfort, slight angst

joel’s been quiet since the bloater. you’d never seen one before, but it was clear that he had. passing you molotovs to throw and igniting pipe bombs himself, you tried to ensure a continuous onslaught of fire towards the bloater.

and it was going down — once you ran out of bombs, you pulled out your shotgun. gathering that fire was its biggest weakness, you loaded it with incendiary shells and gripped the gun tightly. fighting against the recoil was hard, and your finger was slipping against the trigger. the bloater’s attention was on you, and after yanking an acrid pustule from its body towards joel, who dives to the side, it begins to charge.

a few shells slip through your fingers as they click into the gun. you snap it shut and fire all of them into the bloater, which is closing the distance between you by the second. your vision tunnels, and you hear joel yell something. the bloater’s hand reaches out but you fall prone to the floor, crawling between its legs and hauling yourself to your feet and sprinting heavily away. there’s a clattering, a bang, and the ground shakes mightily beneath you. you stumble into the mud. the bloater groans earthily, and there’s a puffing hiss as you roll onto your back.

pushing yourself up on your elbows, you watch the green cloud ascend over the bloater. you’re hoping that means it’s died. joel bounds over to you, boots clicking on the sidewalk as he throws his gun over his shoulder.

“get up, c’mon,” he says with urgency, a little breathless. he grasps your hand and with his other pulls you up by your forearm. as you stand, you watch over his shoulder as runner after runner, clicker after stalker emerges from around the corner. you understand his rush as you turn on your heel. he guides you with a hand on your lower back until you’re both sprinting away, low on ammo, low on energy.