misshorrorshow-of-midgard:

christhegeek:

weepingpegasus:

vaginapowersactivate:





Suddenly, best post.

I’ve never agreed more completely with a Tumblr post ever.

misshorrorshow-of-midgard:

christhegeek:

weepingpegasus:

vaginapowersactivate:

image

image

Suddenly, best post.

I’ve never agreed more completely with a Tumblr post ever.

2treehill:

people who interrupt me when i speak

image

shadowstep-of-bast:

edgebug:

I think that a lot of the reason Jarvis has become so human is because Tony treats him like he’s human. Tony talks to Jarvis in a very colloquial way. He says “you up?” when he knows damn well that Jarvis is operational. He says “throw a little hot-rod red in there” instead of “paint components x, y, and z with red paint #20.” Tony treats all his machinery like that—Dummy and You, especially—and Jarvis is no exception.

Jarvis has become much more human since Iron Man 1. He actually displayed emotions in Iron Man 3—specifically when he feared for Tony’s life, his voice sounded terribly frightened, and in instances like the second gif where he said “I need to sleep” and not “My battery is depleted.” Jarvis has grown and changed, as any self-aware creature does. He has become human because he is treated as such.

The TARDIS Console Room through the Years

The Doctor. In the TARDIS. Next stop—everywhere.

l0ve-lyfe:

l0ve-lyfe:


a-cumberbatch-of-cookies:

cloudwatchingangels:

fionapondwilliams:

prends-la-vie-comme-elle-vient:

Asylum Waiting Room of the Big Three.

it’s funny because it looks like the sherlock fandom are sane here

Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.
Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.
Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.
A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”
“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.
“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”
Supernatural gurgled something quietly.
“No, I won’t forget the pie.”

I SWEAR TO GOD TUMBLR NEVER FUCKING CHANGE

a-cumberbatch-of-cookies:

cloudwatchingangels:

fionapondwilliams:

prends-la-vie-comme-elle-vient:

Asylum Waiting Room of the Big Three.

it’s funny because it looks like the sherlock fandom are sane here

Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.

Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.

Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.

A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”

“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.

“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”

Supernatural gurgled something quietly.

“No, I won’t forget the pie.”

I SWEAR TO GOD TUMBLR NEVER FUCKING CHANGE

2.22 // 4.21

sunshineoptimismandangels:

you can see her British accent

thatonceandfutureprat:

cellar1door:

thewalkingassbutt:

captainlucifer:

heartshiddles:

destieltheory:

samandirielswings:

NO BUT WHY DOES HE REACT LIKE HE SUDDENLY RECOGNIZES THE NAME

I JUS t

stop

profound bond, that’s why.

I bet he’s been hearing that name in his dreams, and just for small moments in his head ever since he got back from Hell. Little whispers in a language he couldn’t understand but for some reason he registered as saying “Castiel.” He remembers the walk from his gravesite to the abandoned convenience store and how lonely he felt until that screeching started, and as startling as it was, it honestly filled him with an irrational sense of safety, if only for a moment.

He remembers Hell, and while he may not remember being pulled up from perdition, he remembers a scorching hand grabbing his shoulder and Enochian whispers of “I’m Castiel, I got you.

I’ll just go and cry now.

Castiel was also mentioned in a summoning ritual that the boys used in 3x06. Sam was the one who recited it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Dean was familiar with it too. Although, since it was recited amongst a bunch of other angels’ names and they still didn’t know who/what Castiel was until they met, I suppose they just didn’t remember. Sam did read it out of a book.

…my god, you’re good. Sam says it loud and clear!

Grown-ups? i can’t see any around!

______
Kaylee is ratchet