Slender Phinbella

achillvs:

if you ever feel bad about not being politically informed just know that king priam of troy in the book 3 of the iliad asked helen who are agamemnon, odysseus and ajax who have been leading a war against him for over 9 years

(via mossadspydolphin)

nunc-iam-illa-non-vult:

I have been abbreviating Julius Caesar as “JC” in my notes all quarter, so now when I write jfc (formerly jesus fucking christ) I read it as “julius fucking caesar,” and I’ve decided to adopt that as my new favorite profanity

(via mossadspydolphin)

fluffy-is-hiding:

The older tumblr users keep talking about the “Mishapocalypse” and I still dont know what it was, and at this point it seems like one of those lovecraftian monsters that’s only spoken about by the village elders in hushed tones.

(via absurdistnaturereserve)

impishnature:

vertibird:

In the week following his ‘death’, Stanley arranged an obituary to accompany the speculative article that had been published in Oregon’s Community Watch. Something sent in by Stanford Pines, sweet and succinct; ‘Stanley Pines, deceased at age thirty. Will be missed. Much love, Stanford Pines’. That would mollify any sympathetic locals.

He considered arranging a funeral after receiving a phone call from his mother. There was no body to bury, of course, so it would only be a gathering to commemorate his death. 

At first, the idea had made him giddy; he could cater as if it were a party! Deliberately serve non-kosher food! Play that obnoxious rock music his father hated!

But following these thoughts was the realization neither his mother nor father had made any attempt to broach the subject of a funeral. No extended family had called, either. No family friends had sent their condolences. He hadn’t received as little as an ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ for anyone, either verbally or in the form of a card.

Stanley Pines was dead, and the dead man himself was the only one thinking about arranging a funeral.

As the phone receiver warmed in his lap, The Beatles rattled around his head,

Eleanor Rigby, died in the church
And was buried along with her name
Nobody came

That would be him, wouldn’t it? Sitting alone at his own funeral while the funeral director addressed the pews as if there were a crowd. ‘We are gathered here today’, he would lie. ‘To celebrate the life and to honor the memory of Stanley Pines.’

So there was no funeral. He allowed Stanley Pines to have a quiet, dignified death, and Stanley didn’t mind. Funerals were drab, anyway. Expensive too. When he finally did die, he would ensure it was long after he had rescued his brother from the portal so there would be at least one person standing by his casket.

After all, when push comes to shove, you only really need one.

Welp there goes my heart this evening. Didn’t need it anyway.

Gonna make this cuter(sadder?) in my head because I need to; Ford finds Stan’s old box of newspaper clippings/IDs while they’re packing everything up ready to set sail on their boat. (I imagine Soos would be fine with Stan’s stuff lying around but Stan on the other hand…he’d want to box it all up in storage so no ones goes rummaging and yet Ford still manages to go rummaging). He finds the obituary signed with his own name and wonders how Stan fakes his own death, maybe wonders about the funeral. He probably debates asking about it and then the idea is taken out of his hands when Stan finds him sat there a little while later still looking through it all.

Stan makes up excuses - that their parents would have known it was him, that he’d have to come up with something to excuse having 5 instead of 6 fingers, how someone would have asked him about his work and he would have been left floundering and it would be obvious he had no idea what he was talking about.

Ford nodded along, almost accepting the lies until Stan let slip something bitter and clearly not meant for him to hear, under his breath.

“Besides, that’s if anyone came anyway.”

A little bit of Ford’s heart breaks and the floodgates of panic open and all the ‘what ifs’ tumble through because if Stan had actually died, at any point around that time then that’s exactly what would have happened, he could see the empty church in his minds eye. And he’s realising just how alone Stan was at that point in his life-

But then a smile’s forming on his face because the ‘what ifs’ don’t matter, they never happened, and now Stan has more family and friends than he has time to check up on. The shack had been inundated with flowers and cards when he’d lost his memory, let alone thinking about worse.

And Ford wasn’t going to think about worse, they had a lot of years ahead of them yet (he’d make sure of that).

(via thesnadger)