❝To build a better world sometimes means tearing the old one down … and that makes enemies.❞
THIS IS HORRIBLE. STOP GIVING ME HORRIBLE EMOTIONS.
remember when the avengers was new?
remember how exciting it was to finally have some of our favorite superheros interacting in one movie?
remember getting chills during this scene?
remember feeling like a superhero when the screen went black and the credit music came on?
Please never forget how special The Avengers is.
It just keeps…… getting. …. better
LET YOUR POWER SHINE
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
Heal what has been hurt
Change the fates design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine
THIS WAS MEANT TO BE FUNNY, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT
ACTUAL TEARS. You have my actual tears on your hands goddammit.
I HADN’T EVEN FINISHED LAUGHING YET GOD
Literally my reaction:
And then I cried
I FUCKING HATE YOU.
i actually did that laugh-kinda sobbing-crying thing
Usain Bolt posing with his winning tortoise at a tortoise race
are you telling me the fastest man in the world spends his free time racing slow ass animals
That is so Zen.
Tom Hiddleston films scenes for the new horror movie ‘Crimson Peak’ in Toronto on April 17, 2014 [HQ]
From the beginning to the end, eh? Well, erm. Sure? Comic below the cut. I’m gonna warn you up front, though, this is not the comic that you’re looking for.
im so fucking done
I used to think I was getting away with something.
“Girls don’t count,” I’d say, running my fingers up her arm at the bar. “Don’t you know that?”
We both had boyfriends. Long-term boyfriends. Mine had introduced me to the concept.
“I wouldn’t feel threatened,” he’d say. “I know they could never compete.”
He meant that a woman, no matter how attached I got, could never “steal” me away from him. He meant that he’d only care about male penetration, about “sex” in the most typical terms. I was young and I didn’t value myself and I hadn’t been taught a lot about feminism or how relationships should work. I said nothing, because I wanted it to be true.
We went on a date, she and I. We saw a movie and then she came over and we drank wine and watched TV and hooked up on the couch and fell asleep. We were drunk and we laughed. I held her.
The next morning, he was angry.
“I thought girls didn’t count,” I said.
“Yeah, but you like, went on a date,” he said.
“We saw a movie,” I replied. “She has a boyfriend.”
“It was a date,” he said. He was irritated.
“How many people have you been with?,” they all ask, adding: “Girls don’t count.”
These girls. I remember them. They happened. They were there with me. They had red hair and bright red lipstick and they wore Boston Red Sox hoodies and they loved Russian literature and they had big, wily pet dogs and they spent the night.
I talked to them at parties or met them in the dorms freshman year or they were friends of friends who stroked my hair and said, “I just think everyone’s a little bit bisexual, don’t you?”
I loved them. They were real and they shared themselves with me and we spent time together at thrift shops and in classes and at bars and at friends’ dinner parties. We held hands while other couples passed around a joint. We buried our faces in each other’s soft necks under the covers. These were relationships. These were people I was with.
“I want us to be monogamous,” men say. “But you know, obviously girls don’t count.”
When did you first have sex?
It depends on what you mean. There was a girl in high school.
No, I mean your virginity. When did you lose it?
He is masturbating. I ask, “What do you want?” He says, “Tell me about when you were with your ex-girlfriend.”
Later, I say my ex-boyfriend’s name when telling a story about last year and he tells me, “You know, I could stand to hear less about him.”
“I just think you’ll end up with a man in the end,” he says when we’re walking to a bar.
“That’s presumptuous,” I reply.
“I just feel like you will.”
“Because you’re threatened?”
“Because it threatens you to know that I could one day not need a dick. That, god forbid, a woman who could end up with either actually chooses to disregard your precious penis.”
“Hey, take it easy. I was just giving you relationship advice.”
At the bar, our friends wonder why we aren’t speaking. Even he is confused by what happened. He doesn’t know what he did wrong.
For a long time, I said nothing. Because if they thought it wasn’t cheating, who was I to argue? I had freedom. I was getting one over on them. I was winning.
They were real. They were real and they counted. They’re not shadows among the men I saw. But I wanted them to be. I wanted to avoid the consequences, to avoid thinking, to avoid wondering what it meant. These men, they told me what it meant: it meant nothing.
And I told other women this fallacy. I moved in to kiss their necks and ears and said, “Girls don’t count, don’t you know?”
And later, they counted. And later, I knew.
MORE CHIBIS PLS. Of Steve and Bucky and Tasha all having their feels and cute weeping or maybe even a cuddle puddle! ;3;operation make bucky happy is a success!
we’ve got backup!
women who had period cramps before pain killers were invented were metal as fuck let’s give them a standing ovation
A round of menopause.
It was a difficult period of history for everyone
i didn’t ask for this to happen
none of us did