airrling:

a-joshifer-shipper:

sweeterthancyanide:

will probably reblog this for the rest of forever

I can’t even.

i will never not reblog this

airrling:

cant-catch-this-snitch:

castiels-hunter:

caffine-addict:

themeeg:

tin-pan-ali:

taking-the-tardis-to-asgard:

mymahoganymyrules:

maslab:

jykinturah:

nomiros:

takeshitakenji:

“Someone should write a book where the main character slowly falls in love with the reader.”

Last line of the book : “Please, don’t close the book, I don’t want to die”

oh my god

I’d just like, keep the book open and tape it to a wall.

I’m almost afraid to want it.

John Green, we’re waiting.

“So I guess this is it, isn’t it? There are no more chapters, right? You said we were getting close and that was a while ago.”

I stared up into the sky, it was the same old sky there had always been, except for some rainclouds that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. It wasn’t raining, but they were still floating up there, grey and dismal.

You begin to ask me something.

“Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. Things just feel really final right now, like the downward slope is starting to level out. Eventually… We’ll hit the back cover, right?”

I sat down on a bench- had that been there a few minutes ago? It was hard to tell.

“Did you say yes? I think I heard you. Your voice keeps getting harder to hear.”

Thunder rumbled, but… It wasn’t like the thunder I’m used to. It sounded like you, and it sounded sad. From one of the clouds, a single drop of rain fell on the grainy wood of the bench.

“… You’re crying, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I wish I could change this. I wish I could reach where you are.”

Thunder rolled again, and behind it was a voice. Your voice.

“Me? I’ll be fine, I think. I don’t know if this has ever happened before. I don’t really know what happens when you… close the book.”

You ask me if I’m afraid.

And oddly, I’m not.

“No, actually. Because… Whatever happens to me when you close the cover… You can always open the book up again, right?” and that’s when the answer hits me, the realization jolting me to stand again. “That’s it, isn’t it? You can open it back up. The words won’t change, but I’ll still be here. You can meet me all over again, and I can meet you, and everything we have will come back.”

It’s raining now, and the clouds have merged together, and in them, for the first time… I see you. 

You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my entire life.

You’re crying, but it’s quiet, and maybe that was the sound of your tears hitting paper.

I realize that we don’t have a lot of time.

“Listen- before it’s all over- I want you to know that everything, all of this… Even being over, it was worth it. It was worth it to meet you, to get to know you. Even if when you close that cover and I disappear- it was all worth it. I love you.”

You love me too, I know it, I can feel it, just like for a moment I can feel what it would be like to hold your hand.

There is a very long pause, and I realize you’re prolonging what has to happen.

“You can do it.”

For the first time, you have to be the hero. You have to close the book so we can keep going. And I believe in you.

The sky gets darker, slowly, but then it gets light again, and your face is still up in those clouds. You open your mouth and for the first time I HEAR you, not just feel what you’re saying or understand you in my own head, your voice comes through the pages in your world and into the reality of mine, and it reverberates and I can hear every little nuance, down to the hitch from you crying.

“I’ll never forget you,” you say. “I’ll come back soon.”

The end.

SOMEONE DID AND NOW IM EMOTIONAL

Plot Twist: 

“I love you.” She whispered softly closing the book. Her fantasy must end and he must die with it no matter how great their love. Tears fell from her eyes, landing upon the hard worn cover of her most beloved book. The book in which lied the love of her life. The book that loved her back. She ached to open it again but she could not continue like this. She must move on and live a life not in her precious book. Sobs racked her body as she walked to the self, hesitantly sliding her beloved book into the shelf. It was only for a time, she told herself. That she would come back again and read the story of her love again and that she may fall in love again. Whipping her eyes she turned toward the door, but froze in her tracks. A man stood there, concern lining his every feature. She knew that face. It was exactly as she had pictured it, from every line of his jaw to the exact color of his eyes. This can’t be possible.

“Why are you crying?”  Oh, his voice. That was his voice. It was as soothing as she had imagined. Her knees grew week and her mind went numb. She struggled for words as he approached her slowly, he knelt before her and touched her cheek, worry etched in his gentle movement. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

She could only choke out, “You’re real?”

I’M SCREAMING

FUCK IT GOT BETTER

Second plot twist:

He smiled gently, her favourite crooked smile. Leaning down, he rested his forehead against hers, closed his eyes, and murmured, “I’ve always been the real.”

Oh my god!

boggartsaremyboggarts:

Reblog if you are a Cumberbabe, Cumberbitch, member of the Cumbercollective etc.

arthur-christmas-claus:

And they weren’t even the same species.

“But it’s not natural!”

“There’s no way any child raised by two men could be happy, or even content.”

“But now their child will be gay.”

“He will never have a normal, real relationship.”

“He’ll be socially inept and never amount to anything.”

Respected king.

Loved father.

I rest my case.

And just for the hell of it…

You can be a homo too!

puppy-dog-radcliffe:

wotcher-doctor:

alwaysvotesaxon:

squeetown:

Jason Isaacs: I remember my very first day, I improvised a line. I had my first day, probably my first shot, I had to kind of flounce out of a room when Dumbledore, played by the late, great Richard Harris, put me in my place, and there was no line written, no exit line. And I’d been humiliated, and my plan had come to nothing. And I said to Chris Columbus, “Don’t you think there should be a line?” And he said, “Well, say something. Say whatever you like.” So we did another take, and I hadn’t told anyone what I was going to do. And as I turned to leave, I looked at Daniel, and I said, “Let us hope Mr. Potter will always be around to save the day.” And then Daniel, who was all of 12, stepped right up to me, looked me right in the eye, and said “Don’t worry. I will be.” A chill went down my spine. And as he did it, I thought, “Christ, this kid is good.”

This is the part in the Harry Potter issue of Entertainment Weekly, when Jason tells this story, that I started to cry.

One of the most iconic lines in the whole of the series was improvised. By a 12-year-old boy.

Holy Shit. This is why I love Daniel and think he’s the most brilliant actor of our time.

Didn’t miss a beat going straight improve with Jason Issacs…. The man that I worship as a villian, one of the most scary men of all time. Have you seen The Patriot? Have you seen him as Hook? That man is a fantastic villian, scares the Hell out of me just watching him… And 12 year old Daniel stood up to him. I would have pissed my pants.

waiting4codot:

My Favourite Things
Tumblr Edition
(This version written and performed by Codot)

Watching the clever consulting Detective,
Timelords and Doctors, and the Borg Collective,
Princes of Asgard and Angels with wings,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Winchester Boys in their old ‘67,
Eccleston, Tennant, and Smith make 11,
Seeing White Walkers and Clashes with Kings,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Wizards who cast spells with deadly precision,
Inspectors who say it’s “not my division”,
GIF-ing The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings,
These are a few of my favourite things.

When Arthur dies,
“Let me through, please!”,
When the Angels Weep,
I try to remember my favourite things,
and then cry myself to sleep!

Billionaire geniuses bringing the party,
Desperately trying to thwart Moriarty,
It’s never over until the Ood sings,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Fluttershy, Applejack, and all the Ponies,
NUTCRACKER! Sam takes one in the Cojones,
Aang, Zuko, Bolin and Korra’s Bendings,
These are a few of my favourite things.

What time is it, why it’s time for Adventure,
Feeling the love between Xavier and Lehnsherr,
In fact, let’s go mad with all our shippings,
These are a few of my favourite things!

When I get hit,
Right in the feels,
When it makes me sad.
I simply remember my favourite things,
and then I don’t feel so bad!

gallifreyan-pizza:

• X-Men
• Avengers (that includes any of the individual characters movies)
• Batman
• Star Trek 
• Star Wars
• And pretty much anything that’s action or targeted to guys

A guy friend of mine today said it was weird that my friend had all the X-Men movies because she was a girl. Needless to say we almost threw him out of the car. So I would like to prove to him that just because we have vagina’s that doesn’t impair us from enjoying an action film.

Women of tumblr please back me up.

redefiningbodyimage:

 

legitimatehypnotist:

supbreaux:

David Dennis: The media seems to forget about New Orleans and any place that the middle class can’t easily relate to

“Now take a moment and imagine a Mother’s Day Parade in the suburbs of Denver, a neighborhood in Edina or a plaza in Austin where bullets rain down on civilians and even hit children. I can’t help but imagine the around-the-clock news coverage. And I can’t help but think it’s because most of America can identify with the fear of being bombarded with gunfire while just enjoying a parade in the middle of town. But America can’t identify with being at a parade in the “inner city” where “gang violence” erupts. The “oh my God, that could happen to me” factor isn’t present with a story about New Orleans or the Chicago southside.” 

I didn’t even hear about it ONCE on the news, that is saying something.

happyhealthyhopeful:

brodingershat:

pimperious-condescension:

I’m a grade 12 in high school who just happens to wear a K-cup bra. I live a fairly normal high school existence, except for the fact that my bust size often gets me in trouble with teachers, especially female teachers.

Now, my school has a uniform that involves a blouse. Being a busty person, I need to undo three buttons in order to have it fit right without it being undone to below my breasts. Even then, it’s a bit of a stretch. There is literally no way to disguise my breasts. Even when I’ve bound them for crossplay, they still look like really large pectoral muscles. I’m also really confident with my body, so I don’t see why I should have to hide what my body looks like at school.

So you can imagine how angry it makes me when a teacher pulls me aside and whispers “you need to do your top up,” as if my life depended on it.

“You know what? You need to mind your own business,” is what I want to say.

Most of my bras don’t push my breasts together that much, anyway, so most of the time, you’ll see my sternum before any cleavage. If you’re so offended by a bone that protects the heart or a whopping whole inch of two bags of fat on either side of it, then I suggest you get a life.

The way the neckline of my blouse is cut also covers the centre of my bra (most of the time), and I have to either spread it apart (like in the picture), sit or kneel below someone, or lean forward for anyone to actually see it.

Now, notice the little white bow right at the top of the bra’s centre in the picture. Most bras have some little ornamentation there, like a bow or a crystal.

I think that’s there in case the bra accidentally peeks out from a shirt or dress; to make it look pretty as opposed to something with a purely industrial purpose. It almost glorifies the sternum and the rest of the bra, which is how I think every inch of someone’s body should be treated.

Bras don’t see anything offensive about a bone that shields the heart.

Bras are smarter than people.

One of my cousins hit puberty in the second grade.

She had an hourglass figure by the time she entered middle school. 

Her first boyfriend thought she was just a bigger girl until the first time they went swimming together, because she’d gotten into the habit of wearing huge sweaters- even in the middle of summer, which can get hot enough to warrant heatstroke warnings- to try to disguise her chest.

This is because everywhere she turned, she was painted as a deviant, sexually promiscuous and attention-seeking youth. She started babysitting for a family friend when she was twelve, and grown women stared in open disapproval when she took the little boy out in his stroller for some fresh air. Men started catcalling at her and approaching her on the street when she was barely thirteen. Teachers looked down on her despite her uniformly excellent grades. Parents of friends immediately pointed to her as a bad influence when things went wrong, despite her immaculate record of just generally being a sensible sort of girl. She had very few female friends, and most of her high school peers assumed that she was sexually involved with most, if not all, of her many male friends. She never was. 

This needs to stop.

This isn’t a fanservice video game where you get to choose cup size and bounciness before you start a round. This is real life. Unless she resorts to surgery, the amount of tissue a girl carries on her chest is completely outside of her control, and has nothing to do with her personality, abilities, or achievements.

Stop demonizing breasts. They’re just breasts.

From the barest bump to the cup that runneth over, a breast is a breast, and it should never be an object of shame.

She who carries the chest in question wasn’t doing anything shameful.

But if you feel the need to shame her, you were.

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