When people say ‘This is my baby,’ they don’t always mean a baby. Sometimes they mean a dog.
—A Somali student, on what has surprised her most about the United States. (via africandogontheprairie)


"My good opinion, once lost-"

"Man, shut up."

(Source: cripplethebitch)

Anonymous sent:

Okay, but what would happen to each of the team if the others got de-aged?




If ever there was a time I needed DeanWinchesterCryingSarcasticallyInAWailingBaby’sFace.jpg, this would be it.


Think Cap1, where he holds the baby up with that vaguely-terrified look of a man who has no goddamn clue what to do with a tiny human being, despite having been one for a goodly portion of his life. Except there’s a whole swarm of them and he’s really big and he’ll probably hurt one of them and oh god how the fuck did Clint get all the way up there NO THOR DO NOT HIT NATASHA SHE MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO WALK VERY WELL YET BUT SHE WILL KILL YOU.


Bruce likes kids, but he doesn’t trust himself, and he’d definitely call a professional sitter or just haul them down to Stark Industries’ daycare center, because he knows how not to loose all sense of reason in a crisis. He doesn’t leave them there alone, but he definitely keeps to the sidelines.


Sam takes a lot of pictures as soon as he’s done tethering them all to his belt like so many puppies on leashes. He thinks they’re adorable. He wants twelve more. He takes them to Central Park and revels in the way young mothers coo over such a responsible manny, and now he knows that Natasha likes pistachio ice cream.


Natasha reacts in a way that, on anyone else, would be considered resourceful and level-headed, if not a bit strange. Meaning, she set them all carefully, one-by-one, in the empty pool with pillows and blankets and teddy bears and a block of colby jack cheese each and patrolled the edge to make sure they didn’t escape until Coulson got there and could tell her what was going on.

In truth, she panicked, because she is NOT child-oriented, and it was all she could think of.


Like Bruce, Clint’s good with kids and likes them, but doesn’t think of himself as a natural caretaker - he doesn’t trust them with some strange nanny, tho, so he kinda pens them up in the den and pulls up Dora the Explorer on Netflix while he waits for SHIELD to tell him what the hell happened.


By the end of the ordeal, they’ve all done fingerpainting, Thor’s mastered Kraft Mac-n-Cheese, they’ve made it through an entire set of Baby Signing Time videos, and when they’re all restored they end up humming Norse lullabies out of nowhere and have no idea why.



Calls for a sitter thoroughly vetted by SHIELD to assist her in personally caring for the kid!vengers, keeps one ear glued to the phone demanding answers from Coulson and coordinating with every superhero scientist and magic-user she could track down, instigated a worldwide manhunt for the jackass responsible, and then slings Tony to her front and Natasha to her back (those two could get out of the harnesses in seconds), tethers the others to her like Sam would have, and marches over to SHIELD holding to tear the ne’er-do-well to shreds and ensure that he knows that if he does not return them all to their rightful state she would tear his face off with her fingernails, have it bronzed, and mount it on her office wall.

And she still finds time for peek-a-boo.


Pretty much exactly what Pepper does, but with a military escort, a sidearm, and little-bunny-foofoo instead of peek-a-boo.


Holds Steve and cries.


Im crying

(Source: samwilsonbootyenthusiast)

agirlcalledfrost sent:




so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!

  • spoiler alert: yes they can? THEY ALWAYS CAN.
  • 200 years of american high school and teenagers still think that there is a cap limit on kids in detention and that you can leave after 15 minutes if the teacher doesn’t show up.

anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”

  • she didn’t say scab because she’s not from the 1920s and we aren’t newsies, though this story would be way more interesting if we were
  • what she said was “YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!”
  • except not yolo because it was 2009 and drake hadn’t been invented yet except as a dear sweet boy in a wheelchair.

we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.

  • I’M NOT ASHAMED, but in that way where like i kind of AM ashamed so i’m really aggressively NOT ashamed? 

so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”

"hell no," i said. "YOLO. they can’t punish all of us."

elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.

  • HELLA.

off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.” 

of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE. 

but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.

at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.

all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE," and elle said, "did you hear that?"

"hear what?"


'that' was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU'RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.

our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”

i held my breath. 

  • i should add here that i seemed to be operating on like a scooby-doo level of logic where basically i thought that she was somehow NOT ALLOWED to investigate?
  • like, if she can’t see me, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that she could prove i’m in here, right?
  • she’ll just poke her head in and be like oH GOSH NO KIDS HERE and leave!!

you can see the flaw in my logic.

mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”

  • there’s no WAY she guesses i’m in the closet!!!

"mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet."



there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.

i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.

i said, “where’s ginna?”


"um," said elle, "she’s in the—"


ginna yes.

i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:

  • oh no.
  • what have i done?
  • this was a mistake. 
  • i regret a series of decisions that i have made.
  • is there a way out of this?
  • are those oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
  • why are there oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
  • mollyhall, you HAVE a food cupboard, what good is a food cupboard if you don’t—
  • oh, crap.

she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.

ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”


No but really the level of my non breathing silent laugh sobs is pretty intense right now.



Steve ‘did it hurt - a little’ Rogers


Don’t even start me on the fact he’s spent his whole life trying not to make a big deal of when he’s ill. He doesn’t want pity or sympathy. He doesn’t wanted to be treated like he’s weak. He doesn’t want to be looked down on because ‘he can’t take it’.

You only ever hear Steve Rogers scream once, and when he thinks people think he’s being weak, he stops and never screams again. Not unless you count the moment he sees Bucky fall to his death.

(Source: sabacc)

Me and Other Peoples’ Characters: A Love Story





Oh my god.
It’s me.
Like the perfect description.   

adorable xD

(Source: sarsler)

Artist: The Shins
Track: "Simple Song"
Plays: 18 plays


I know that things can really get rough when you go it alone

Don’t go thinking you gotta be tough, and play like a stone

Could be there’s nothing else in our lives, so critical

As this little home


In 1888 actress Ellen Terry performed the role of Lady Macbeth at London’s Lyceum Theatre while wearing an awesome green gown bedecked with the 1,000 sloughed-off wings of the jewel beetle. It quickly became one of the most celebrated costumes of the Victorian era, immortalized in a portrait painted by John Singer Sargent.

126 years is a long time and over the years Dame Terry’s dress experienced all sorts of wear and tear and numerous alterations. But after 1,300 hours of painstaking work over and £50,000 ($81,000) in expenses, this magnificent costume has been restored to its original glory.

Work began on the gown two years ago after a successful fundraising campaign, but restoring the beetle wings wasn’t the most difficult task. “We had collected the beetle wings that had fallen off over the years,” says Paul Meredith, house manager at Smallhythe Place, where the dress now resides, “so that the conservator was able to reattach many of the originals, plus others that had been donated to us—1,000 in total.” The restoration team patched the 100 or so broken wings using small pieces of Japanese tissue and wheat starch paste.

Click here to read more about the restoration process.

Photos by Zenzie Tinker

[via Morbid Anatomy and Ecouterre]

(Source: emmagrannfotografi.blogg.se)


#I’m laughing right now #although #it means his character is being controlled by someone else

If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.


This hit me harder than I expected.

(via bonhivers)

(Source: foreverthecuriousone)

Artist: Enter The Haggis
Track: "Andromeda"
Plays: 6 plays


I am haunted by all the editions of books that are prettier than the ones I already own.


Charles M. Schulz - Peanuts, Lucy, 1952 [***]

 (via allieinarden)