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ghibli22:

loki-s-army-at-221b:

mishasminions:

hellscabanaboy:

kismetjeska:

#in which Bruce Banner finally finds somebody who isn’t afraid to kid around with him #because he has a sense of humour after all #’i’m sorry, that was mean’ anyone? #but everybody tiptoes around him because ‘oh shit, he’s a monster’ #but then he meets Tony #someone who’s not afraid to be around him #someone who might actually be a friend #and that means so much to him and permeates so deep that even when he’s the fucking Hulk he still wants to save Tony’s ass #because by not treating the Hulk like a monster, Tony stopped him from being one

#SCIENCE BRO FEELS

#because by not treating the Hulk like a monster, Tony stopped him from being one

SCIENCE BROS 5EVA


That moment when you dont know who to ship Tony with so you just ship him with everyone in the movie

This is the third time I’ve reblogged this. NO REGRETS

(Source: lawyerupasshole)

baitnswitchblade:

chainsandshipsexciteme:

sexting-derek-hale:

mynerdinessoverwhelmsme:

sexting-derek-hale:

Wait do American people not call their friends mate?? Is this a thing???

Yup. I’m sure some do but mostly people just say friend. Which is boring but whatever.

Wait so you go up to your friends and be like “Hello friend.”

we use names

[after a half-hearted suicide attempt at age 13]

When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all?

All you can imagine putting in your mouth is a cold plum, one with really tight skin on the outside but gum-shocking sweetness inside. And he and your mother discuss where he might find some this late in the season. Mother says hell I don’t know. Further north, I’d guess.

The next morning, you wake up in your bed and sit up. Mother says, Pete, I think she’s up. He hollers in, You ready for breakfast, Pokey. Then he comes in grinning, still in his work clothes from the night before. He’s holding a farm bushel. The plums he empties onto the bed river toward you through folds in the quilt. If you stacked them up, they’d fill the deepest bin at the Piggly Wiggly.

Damned if I didn’t get the urge to drive to Arkansas last night, he says.

Your mother stands behind him saying he’s pure USDA crazy.

Fort Smith, Arkansas. Found a roadside stand out there with a feller selling plums. And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She’s got a hanker for plums and ain’t nothing else gonna do.

It’s when you sink your teeth into the plum that you make a promise. The skin is still warm from riding in the sun in Daddy’s truck, and the nectar runs down your chin.

And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.
Mary Karr, “Cherry” (via lifeinpoetry)

ruinedchildhood:

me as a teacher

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