In CoS when they try to sneak into Myrtle’s bathroom to ask her about her death, McGonagall catches them and Harry makes up the excuse that they wanted to see Hermione in the hospital wing and Minnie doesn’t give them detention and then comes this and since we all know Harry’s dumbest excuse, here’s the official suggestion to rate all of Harry’s excuses on a scale from
The Fair Folk: “I can’t believe this. Twenty years I’ve cleaned your house and you DARE to try to REPAY me with GIFTS. This is such an insult. Fuck you, you insolent humans. I’m leaving here and never returning because you have insulted me so deeply.”
Also the Fair Folk: “Remember that one time you pulled a thorn out of a cat’s foot? That was me. To show my gratitude, here is a house made of solid gold, a life-debt, my daughter’s hand in marriage, and a promise that all your children will be gorgeous and successful at all that they do. I can also throw in a blow job if you want. I hope this is enough. I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”
Oh, no! That’s both a wonderful and awful feeling; I’m very familiar with it. XD
So personally, I am a very aggressively expressive person, so I tend to randomly call authors out for overwhelming me with feels, either through asks, commenting on their fic, or making long rambling posts and tagging them in it.
I assume artistic types would draw their feelings out, but if I did that …
… well. This doesn’t quite capture the intense emotion and heartrending drama, does it?
But seriously, authors tend to be very insecure creatures, so yelling at them over your intense emotions will make them so so happy!
Besides that, I usually go for long walks with music. Just sorta … walk my feelings out. I’m not sure if that’s a normal thing or an autism thing, but it gets rid of that restless energy that comes after reading or watching something too good to be contained in your mortal form and must be expelled.
(Also that gorgeous work of sticky art was the most recent chapter of @setepenre-set‘s Megamind fanfic “Code: Safeword.” Obviously.)
OH MY GOSH THIS IS SO CUTE AND HILARIOUS.
ROXANNE’S HAIR. BECAUSE SHE KEEPS RUNNING HER HANDS THROUGH IT AND YANKING ON IT YES IN THAT SCENE YES.
Roses are red, that much is true, but violets are purple, not fucking blue.
I have been waiting for this post all my life.
They are indeed purple, But one thing you’ve missed: The concept of “purple” Didn’t always exist.
Some cultures lack names For a color, you see. Hence good old Homer And his “wine-dark sea.”
A usage so quaint, A phrasing so old, For verses of romance Is sheer fucking gold.
So roses are red. Violets once were called blue. I’m hugely pedantic But what else is new?
My friend you’re not wrong
About Homer’s wine-ey sea!
Colours are a matter
Of cultural contingency;
Words are in flux
And meanings they drift
But the word purple
You’ve given short shrift.
The concept of purple,
My friends, is old
And refers to a pigment
once precious as gold.
By crushing up molluscs
From the wine-dark sea
You make a dye:
Imperial decree
Meant that in Rome,
to wear purpura
was a privilege reserved
For only the emperor!
The word ‘purple’,
for clothes so fancy,
Entered English
By the ninth century
.
Why then are voilets
Not purple in song?
The dye from this mollusc,
known for so long
Is almost magenta;
More red than blue.
The concept of purple
is old, and yet new.
The dye is red,
So this might be true:
Roses are purple
And violets are blue
.
While this song makes me merry, Tyrian purple dyes many a hue From magenta to berry And a true purple too.
But fun as it is to watch this poetic race The answer is staring you right in the face: Roses are red and violets are blue Because nothing fucking rhymes with purple.
setepenre-set 