petition for a doctor who episode where the doctor travels back in time to meet arthur conan doyle and accidentally happens to mention how popular sherlock holmes is even 130 years later and poor acd almost breaks down crying
"Doctor before you leave…just tell me one thing."
"My books, the Sherlock Holmes books…do they die out?"
"No, Arthur. People love them. They carry on for hundreds of years."
"Damnit. God damnit. Fuck."
i hope those pictures of misha and tahmoh on the playground are not only them messing around,
but also cas and gadreel having an important meeting like
Wait, is this…? I had never noticed this
do you ever think about space and just
I will never let myself scroll past a picture of Walt and not reblog it. I feel like I’d be dishonoring him, and he’s just done so much for me that it’s just not right.
Bless this man for enriching my childhood.
People who don’t reblog this
DISHONOR ON YOUR WHOLE FAMILY
DISHONOR ON YOU
DISHONOR ON YOUR COW
I shit you not my parents met at Disney
I cannot not reblog this eveytime it pops out on my dash
imagine that car ride home talk about awkward
"hey so why did you start holding my face and deliver a minute long monologue about me" "…" "did you just crank up the opera to maximum volume" "i cannot hear you will"
The full list of upcoming marvel projects which can be found on IMDb. There is a distinct lack of hulk here. However there are lots that I’m really happy about.
#25 COULD MEAN BUDAPEST
you’re telling me nick fury came from hell’s kitchen
A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.
Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)
When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.
Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.
Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.
Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.
Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.
—'My Perfume Doubles As Mace,' theappleppielifestyle. (via queenofeden)