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January 13 2013

Reposted fromGreenSkyOverMe GreenSkyOverMe viahairinmy hairinmy

January 11 2013

"There’s no time for romance, we have shit to Avenge."

Scarlett Johansson,

on the lack of romantic subplot in The Avengers.


There’s no time for romance, we have shit to...
Reposted byFantasyIsMistery FantasyIsMistery
"I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other." —
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein. (via riverran)

#mary shelley #this quote though #it’s all kinds of wonderful #hey remember that time one asswipe was like you have 30 seconds to name something invented by a woman… #…and Mary was like SCIENCE FICTION MOTHERFUCKERS #that was awesome #thanks Mary Shelley (via snappily)

And the next time someone starts claiming that teenage girls have ruined the horror genre with romance or whatever you can be like, hey dicksmack, teenage girls and romance built your genre so sit the fuck down. (via sharpestrose)
Thank you for explaining.
Reposted fromhairinmy hairinmy

January 10 2013


January 05 2013

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Reposted from1911 1911 viahairinmy hairinmy
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the doctors

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People associate mental disorder with violence. We found that crime and mental disorder are linked, but not in the way people think: Persons with severe mental disorders are terribly vulnerable to victimization.

Linda Teplin, discussing her research paper ‘Crime victimization in adults with severe mental illness’ (This paper is under paid access, but free articles summarizing it can be read here and here)

I thought, given recent discussions here and elsewhere following the horrible events of last week in Newtown CT, this was a really appropriate time to reblog this quote that I transcribed in the summer.

(via mindovermatterzine)

Reposted fromzweisatz zweisatz viahairinmy hairinmy
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Why feminism is wrong, oh, wait, maybe not?

Submitted by Meghan


Reposted frommynnia mynnia viahairinmy hairinmy
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don’t worry, i fixed it.

Reposted frommynnia mynnia viahairinmy hairinmy

January 04 2013





depression is like trying to peel a potato with another potato its not fun it doesnt work and you just wanna cry

…why is this such a good metaphor what the fuck

#and then people are like #God! Why don’t you just get a peeler!? #and then they HAND YOU ANOTHER FUCKING POTATO

i reblogged it before but then it got better

Reposted frommynnia mynnia viahairinmy hairinmy
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"Sudden Dicks is my upcoming metal band"
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January 01 2013

People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.
— Neil Gaiman
Reposted frommattieu mattieu viahairinmy hairinmy

December 29 2012


So I’ve been having an alarming number of nightmares recently. My nightmares don’t tend to be of the obvious pain-of-death variety; more of the slow, horrifying realization type. Last night’s was particularly crushing, and I would like to share it with you:

A different place, a different time. I lived in a house, with my wife, in a world overrun with vicious predators, who sought nothing more than to rend us limb from limb. For reasons not known to me, our house was not safe at night. So every night was spent running through the wilderness, not staying in one place for very long, leaving our scent with small groups of prey so the predators would consume them and not us. Every day was spent resting in the house; each day one of us would say to the other, “When we rest, we rest together,” and she would make a bottle for the baby. Every night, we’d run.

After a few nights, I realized there were no other humans.

And one day, weeks later, she was making the bottle, quietly sobbing, saying to me, “When we rest, we rest together,” and I realized there was no baby either.


Not exactly how I wanted to wake up, and it certainly kept me from sleeping for about the rest of the night. So I lay in bed, thinking about the dream, thinking about how I could communicate to someone just how crushing that realization was. There are obviously many ways that story could be communicated; I could write it, as I just did. I could turn it into a proper short story, with characters; I could illustrate it as a comic; I could do a short film. But all of these are viewing forms — even with a first person perspective, if you came to the realization, it wouldn’t be yours — you would be watching someone else come to the realization. You may feel for them, you may empathize, but it still isn’t your realization.

I realized the only way to fully communicate my experience to someone else would be to turn it into a game.

The reason, of course, is that there is a very specific set of criteria and stimuli you need to experience in order to grasp the full weight of the situation:

  • You need to be you, but as someone else. This strange dissociation isn’t a particularly difficult concept; we do it all the time in dreams, and we do it all the time in games.
  • You need to not know everything about yourself, but know enough to function in your new world. This strange not-amnesia isn’t really that weird; again, we do it all the time in dreams, and we do it all the time in games.
  • You need to be able to take in information at your own pace, information needs to be available to you at only the moments you look for them, and gaps need to be present to allow you draw your own conclusions. Movies try to do this, but they can only show you information; as clever as a director may be, he can’t truly allow you to discover information. But we do it all the time in dreams, and we certainly do it in games.

The realization that there was no baby, and hadn’t been for some time, only came at the moment I saw her crying, because every instance before that, after she made the bottle, we would sleep, and when we ran, she ran behind me. This allowed the assumption that she carried and cared for the baby. But when I had that realization, the rest of the dream came into the focus — I had never seen the baby, I had never heard the baby. The only evidence that the baby had ever existed was in my wife’s actions.

These sort of cognitions, realizations, and epiphanies are only possible in a medium where you are given a certain amount of author-provided information and a certain amount of autonomy of discovery. And so I discovered this truth about games:

Games can cause the participant to have author-guided realizations.

and even more importantly…

Games can cause the participant to have author-guided realizations that the participant owns.

I humbly submit that no other art form could as effectively communicate my dream, as I experienced it. And before you tell me it wouldn’t be a game because there are no goals, the goals are obvious: avoid getting killed by predators, for as many days as possible.

A game can be the strongest medium with which to express a dream. If that doesn’t qualify it as art, then you clearly don’t know how to dream.

My Final Argument for Games as Art | Cipher Prime Studios

December 28 2012

That's left to right, Benedict Cumberbatch, David Harewood,  Natalie Dormer, Dirk Maggs, James McAvoy, David Schofield and Anthony Head, all gathered today to record the BBC Radio 4/Radio 4 Extra production of NEVERWHERE.
via Neil Gaiman's Journal: Author meets world
Reposted fromhairinmy hairinmy
Good Omens - Riders of the Apocalypse
via Aviv Or - Character Design
Reposted fromhairinmy hairinmy
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