Remember when Anakin cut his son’s hand off and then immediately asked him if they could be pals as if he hadn’t just cut his son’s hand off?

Anakin’s like, “I lost four limbs… I’m not sure why he’s so upset?”

“Son, back in my day you had to crawl uphill out of a volcano when you lost a limb, you kids have it so easy.”

“goddamn entitled space millennials. why are you crying, was that your selfie hand, wuss?”


Lin-Manuel Miranda and J.J. Abrams performing the cantina song is the best Star Wars Day gift

Lin-Manuel Miranda and J.J. Abrams have worked together before: While promoting Star Wars: The Force Awakens last December, Abrams revealed that he and Miranda wrote new cantina music for the movie. Outside of the Richard Rodgers Theatre in Manhattan, Miranda and Abrams came together to perform “Jabba Flow,” which is a song entirely in Huttese, for Wednesday’s #Ham4Ham. 

After the performance, Miranda revealed exciting news that had Star Wars fans screaming.





I was trying to think of the c work in Les mis. It’s confrontation. All I was getting was convection oven

…Somebody please write the dramatic bake-off filk that clearly needs to be now.

Valjean, at last
We’ll see who makes great cake
“M’sieur le Maire”
I doubt that you can bake!

…I couldn’t stop until I mangled the whole thing.

Before you say another word, Javert
Before we argue about cake again
Listen to me. There is something I must do
I’ve almost run out of baking supplies
I’ll run to the store at my highest speed
In mercy’s name, three eggs are all I need
Then I’ll bake cake, I pledge my word
Then I’ll bake cake…

You must think me mad!
You’ve not made decent cake in years
Men like you can never bake
A man such as you

Believe of me what you will
I’m going to make an awesome cake
You know nothing of my life
All I did was burn some bread
You know nothing of good cake
You would rather see me dead
But not before I see this bake-off done
I am warning you, Javert
I’m the better cook by far
There is power in me yet
My race is not yet run
I am warning you, Javert
There is nothing I won’t dare
If I have to ruin your cake
I’ll do what must be done!

Men like me make awesome cake
Men like you can never bake
No, 24601
I make much better cake
You have no eggs
Just give up, 24601
Now your supplies have run out
Jean Valjean has nothing now
Dare you talk to me of cake
And the icing you will try
Kitchen snacking is a sin
Keep your unwashed hands away
You know nothing of Javert
My dream job was baking cake
I dreamed of it ‘til high school
I wanna be a baker too

And this I swear to you tonight

There is no cake that you get right

This is my great cake-baking test

Whatever cake you will bake

And I will make this cake here right

I swear to you, my cake is best!

Slash Fic Gothic


You have blond hair, he has brown hair. You always have blond hair, he always has brown hair. You dye your hair brown, but suddenly his hair is blond, and you feel as though maybe you are him, and he is you, and you have blond hair again, and he has brown hair.

His gaze is impossibly fond, his eyes are impossibly blue, he pulls you impossibly closer, your heart beats impossibly fast, the bulge in his pants is impossibly hard, he should maybe get that checked out.

You don’t remember ever working out and yet you look down and see you have a six pack. When you next see yourself in the mirror you have an eight pack. When he takes of your shirt you have ten, twelve abs. You’re scared to look again in case there are more.

His eyes change colour depending on his moods. At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but now you’re not so sure. They switch between blue, green and grey. Once you thought you saw a flicker of red. You make sure to kiss with your eyes closed now.

You’re white, and so is he. Sometimes he’s your enemy, but you still love him, don’t you? Of course, it makes sense. You’re not sure what you like about him, exactly, but there must be something, right? There’s this intangible thing between you, isn’t there? You feel like you may have more chemistry with your non-white friend, but that can’t be right.

You don’t remember taking your clothes off but you’re naked now. Well, all you remember is toeing out of your shoes. You always toe out of them, although you don’t quite know what that means.

Your pronouns mix into a blur and you no longer know where you end and he begins… You reach out your hand to his hand on his arm… your arm… his… You are sitting and he straddles you but is facing away… There are hands everywhere…



re-creation of one of my favorite audio posts (which is now broken)