1. get to know me meme: favorite movies [1/5] 
    → the boondock saints (1999)

  2. normreedus:

    Endless list of favorite movies: The Boondock Saints (1999)

    And Shepherds we shall be For thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti.

  3. eternalecho:

    • Connor: Do ya know what we need, man? Some rope.
    • Murphy: Absolutely. What are ya, insane?
    • Connor: No I ain’t. Charlie Bronson’s always got rope.

  4. Thoughts When Living Alone

  5. It’s Monday. I’m going home at 6pm and a middle aged man and a teenage boy are the only people left on the bus with me. I consider the fact that because the driver is also a man I am the only person left on the bus with the correct genetic makeup for boobs. I’m automatically scared, scared because of my own anatomy. I wonder how old I was when I realized that my own body was going to be the cause of the constant anxiety and fear I feel in situations like this. I get off at the last stop and the older man smiles at me while following me up the street. His smile drips, drips, drips and my heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. He turns off down another road, but I run the rest of the way home.

    Not all men.

    I’m at home on a Tuesday, beginning to plan the travels I want to go on next year. I dream of wandering the streets and meeting strangers. I just can’t wait to escape the city I’ve lived in for 17 long years. But… my mum is hesitant. She’s forever worried about the danger that being a young girl traveling alone can bring. I’ll be alone and she’s scared. Surely I’m invincible. I feel invincible. But I know, I know this danger is real and I can’t help but think to myself, if I feel unsafe in my own city, how am i going to feel in a strange place with strange men who don’t speak the same language as me? If I was my brother planning this, I would probably just be wondering if European girls are going to be hot.

    Not all men.

    Wednesday is a beautiful sunny day but I’ve always been told that I don’t have a “nice enough body” to wear a bikini on the beach. Ever since I was 6 years old I’ve thought that having tummy fat was ugly. That skin that doesn’t have a perfectly golden glow is undesirable. I amble to a clear patch of sand in my one piece and I can feel pairs of eyes latching onto me. Hairy men in speedos who I don’t look twice at eat into my body with their stares. I’m a piece of meat. I am a piece of meat? I am here for their amusement. Please don’t let me be eaten alive.

    Not all men.

    Thursday night two friends and I are walking to our god damn school dance when we hear “Jesus look at you! You sluts heading to a pole?” These words snarl out of the mouth of a respectably dressed man and we stop in horror. Shivers roll up my back in fear. It’s dark. We are alone. What. Do. We. Do??? One of us pulls the finger back. I can never be sure how quickly a sexist man can get angry so we walk quickly away. We’re angry, so so angry. But also so… deflated. I wonder if we deserve this shame.

    Not all men.

    Sitting on the internet, Friday night and scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed:

    “Haha, good job at the game today bro. You RAPED them!”
    “Damn with tits like that, you’re asking for it :P”

    Another sexist comment…
    Another sexist comment…
    Another sexist comment…

    I’m shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and I want to CRY because these boys don’t realize how small they make me feel with just pressing a few keys. I see these boys on the streets, I talk to these boys, I laugh with these boys. Dear GOD, dear GOD i hope these boys don’t think actions speak louder than words…

    Not all men.

    Three rules that have been drilled into me since I was young run through my mind at 1.30am on a Satur… Sunday Morning:

    -Don’t ever talk to strange men
    -Don’t ever be alone at night in a strange place
    -Don’t ever get into a car with a stranger

    I break all 3 of these laws as I pull open the taxi door. Making light conversation with the driver, he doesn’t see my sweaty hand clutching the small pocket knife I keep hidden on me at all times. He doesn’t even realize the fear I feel at his mere presence. He cannot comprehend it, he never will. How easy would this 15 minute car ride be if I was born a boy?

    Not all men.

    It comes to Sunday, another snoozy, sleepy, Sunday and someone has the AUDACITY to tell me not all men are rapists. I say nothing.

    I’m a 17 year old girl.
    When I am walking alone and it’s dark, it’s all men.
    When I am in a car with a man I don’t know well, it’s all men.
    When men drunkenly leer at me on the streets, it’s all men.
    When a boy won’t leave me alone at a party, it’s all men.

    Not all men are rapists. But for a young girl like me? Every one of them has the potential to be.

    Not.
    All.
    Men.

    — 

    (via nonjazzscatcat)

    this is amazing

    (via silverindies)

    (Source: trueho)

  6. (Source: best-of-memes)

  7. I’m not where I need to be, but thank god I’m not where I used to be.

    — (via frommoon2moon)

    (Source: feellng)

  8. Until I started taking my antidepressants, though, I didn’t actually know that I was depressed. I thought the dark staticky corners were part of who I was. It was the same way I felt before I put on my first pair of glasses at age 14 and suddenly realized that trees weren’t green blobs but intricate filigrees of thousands of individual leaves; I hadn’t known, before, that I couldn’t see the leaves, because I didn’t realize that seeing leaves was a possibility at all. And it wasn’t until I started using tools to counterbalance my depression that I even realized there was depression there to need counterbalancing. I had no idea that not everyone felt the gravitational pull of nothingness, the ongoing, slow-as-molasses feeling of melting down into a lump of clay. I had no way of knowing that what I thought were just my ingrained bad habits — not being able to deposit checks on time, not replying to totally pleasant emails for long enough that friendships were ruined, having silent meltdowns over getting dressed in the morning, even not going to the bathroom despite really, really, really having to pee — weren’t actually my habits at all. They were the habits of depression, which whoa, holy shit, it turns out I had a raging case of.

    — Not Everyone Feels This Way — The Archipelago — Medium (via brutereason)

  9. Forget stardust—you are iron. Your blood is nothing but ferrous liquid. When you bleed, you reek of rust. It is iron that fills your heart and sits in your veins. And what is iron, really, unless it’s forged? You are iron. And you are strong.

    — n.t. (via lustambitions)

  10. masterkfox:

masterkfox:

guess which frame I gave up on

3000 notes because I wrote ‘fuck’ on an animation frame what the hell tumblr

    masterkfox:

    masterkfox:

    guess which frame I gave up on

    3000 notes because I wrote ‘fuck’ on an animation frame what the hell tumblr

  11. figsandtea:

    niiicethings:

    “Noun is a playful artist’s book about words and their definitions. It is like an exquisite corpse with words.

    Starting with 27 real English words, each word and its definition has been divided into two parts. By turning the pages, you get to mix and match the word halves to create humorous and nonsensical new words and meanings.

    With over 700 different combinations, this book is the perfect item for bibiophiles, lexicographers, writers, and any lover of words.

    Here are a few examples of words and definitions you can put together:

    whisper + umbrella = whisbrella: A low sibilan utterance for sheltering one from rain and sun.
    banana + onomatopoeia = bananpoeia: A large herbaceous perennial tropical plant that bears fruit imitating the sound of the thing or action signified.
    muffin + tyrant = muffrant: A quick bread made of batter unrestrained by law or constitution.
    nomenclature + ancestry = nomencestry: A system or set of names for things derived from, or possessed by, an ancestor or ancestors.”

    I’M SORRY BUT 

    muffin + tyrant = muffrant: A quick bread made of batter unrestrained by law or constitution.

    THIS IS THE PINNACLE OF HUMAN INNOVATION ALL OTHER PLAYERS GO HOME.

  12. memoirsofanedwardianadventuress:

    everyworldneedslove:

    I may always reblog every gifset/imageset I see of this scene, if only to point out (over and over and over again) that Black Widow’s “very specific skillset” is not, actually, ass-kicking (as amazing as she is at that), because all the Avengers can kick ass to a pretty high degree. The Black Widow’s superpower (as it were) is emotional manipulation.

    She is not interrogating this man not while tied to a chair. She is tied to a chair because that is exactly where she wants to be, because apparent vulnerability on her part is part of her interrogation. She uses the exact same trick on Loki later, when she leads him into gloating over having successfully pushed her buttons (and I have a theory that he did actually push her buttons, that she was genuinely distressed by the things he said to her because Loki is old enough and smart enough to know when someone is lying to him) and turns his gloating around on him, uses it to dig into the cracks of him, because that is what she does, and she can do it even when her target is expecting it. (Really, Loki knows that’s why she’s there. He was expecting to be physically tortured first, and for her to come be sympathetic later, if you recall, but Loki and Widow both know that wouldn’t work.)

    And this is why she’s so unsettled by the Hulk. The Black Widow relies on emotional manipulation — and the Hulk, to the best of her knowledge, only has varying shades of a single emotion: anger. She doesn’t know how to manipulate a creature if it doesn’t have all the hooks to emotions like pride and lust and guilt and greed that she’s used to using.

    This is a REALLY good character analysis of Natasha.

    (Source: daily-mcu)

  13. (Source: princusbeau)

  14. Writers end up writing about their obsessions. Things that haunt them; things they can’t forget; stories they carry in their bodies waiting to be released.

    — Natalie Goldberg (via vittamin)

    (Source: quotethat)

  15. consultinghuntersofgallifrey:

chubbymon:

weezapalooza:

actualstalkertimothydrake:

THIS IS A LAMP

Wha?!?! Take my money!

Omfg! I could put it in my bookcase!

NEED

    consultinghuntersofgallifrey:

    chubbymon:

    weezapalooza:

    actualstalkertimothydrake:

    THIS IS A LAMP

    Wha?!?! Take my money!

    Omfg! I could put it in my bookcase!

    NEED

    (Source: bluskadoe)