221b-tardis-street

jeffblimissylar:

Do you know who I think is the ugliest girl in school?

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That Hermione Granger

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You know what I’d give her on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1… 1 would be the ugliest and then 10 is pretty…

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I would give her

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an 8

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An 8.5

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Or 9

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Not over a 9.8

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Because there is always room for improvement

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Not everyone’s perfect like me

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That’s why I am holding out for a 10

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Because I’m worth it

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harrypottermeta

vaguepretension:

"Quidditch is a rich man’s sport: like polo, in which the expense of horses limits participation to those with money or those sponsored by money, Quidditch players on old brooms can never hope to compete with those in possession of the latest technological marvels. "

daleksdonottakeorders

My response to the “I am not a feminist” internet phenomenon….

First of all, it’s clear you don’t know what feminism is. But I’m not going to explain it to you. You can google it. To quote an old friend, “I’m not the feminist babysitter.”

But here is what I think you should know.

You’re insulting every woman who was forcibly restrained in a jail cell with a feeding tube down her throat for your right to vote, less than 100 years ago.

You’re degrading every woman who has accessed a rape crisis center, which wouldn’t exist without the feminist movement.

You’re undermining every woman who fought to make marital rape a crime (it was legal until 1993).

You’re spitting on the legacy of every woman who fought for women to be allowed to own property (1848). For the abolition of slavery and the rise of the labor union. For the right to divorce. For women to be allowed to have access to birth control (Comstock laws). For middle and upper class women to be allowed to work outside the home (poor women have always worked outside the home). To make domestic violence a crime in the US (It is very much legal in many parts of the world). To make workplace sexual harassment a crime.

In short, you know not what you speak of. You reap the rewards of these women’s sacrifices every day of your life. When you grin with your cutsey sign about how you’re not a feminist, you ignorantly spit on the sacred struggle of the past 200 years. You bite the hand that has fed you freedom, safety, and a voice.

In short, kiss my ass, you ignorant little jerks.

Libby Anne  (via sathinfection)
queentasharomanoff
huggs5:

subite-vene-in-misha:

stuffimgoingtohellfor:

knitmeapony:

 #make way for the booty parade

Reblogging again bc I’ve been watching it for awhile (for characterization purposes!) and I thought Widow was running a little, erm, poorly. But then I remembered her ankle got pinned under that beam when the Helicarrier was attacked and this AMAZING BITCH IS RUNNING ON A BROKEN ANKLE.

ain’t no broken limb gonna stop the truly fierce one

No but the amazing thing is that things like that often get forgotten about in filmmaking. Oh she’s got a broken ankle huh? Oh well, I’m sure the fans won’t notice. BUT WE NOTICED AND THEY ARE AMAZING AT DETAIL IN THIS MOVIE.

huggs5:

subite-vene-in-misha:

stuffimgoingtohellfor:

knitmeapony:

 

Reblogging again bc I’ve been watching it for awhile (for characterization purposes!) and I thought Widow was running a little, erm, poorly. But then I remembered her ankle got pinned under that beam when the Helicarrier was attacked and this AMAZING BITCH IS RUNNING ON A BROKEN ANKLE.

ain’t no broken limb gonna stop the truly fierce one

No but the amazing thing is that things like that often get forgotten about in filmmaking. Oh she’s got a broken ankle huh? Oh well, I’m sure the fans won’t notice. BUT WE NOTICED AND THEY ARE AMAZING AT DETAIL IN THIS MOVIE.

fytortall

rattyjol asked:

Buri/Thayet back-to-back fighting gogogo

tanoraqui answered:

"Keep her safe," Buri’s mother had told her when she sent her away with Thayet, away from the palace and the capital and Kalasim’s body. "Do what she says, but first keep her safe. Don’t stop until you get to the Mother’s temple."

.

"Take the little ones and go," Thayet hissed between gritted teeth. The young women stood side by side at the foot of a path between two steep hills, just narrow enough to be held by a single skilled warrior. The children they’d picked up in the last couple days - two girls and a bouncing baby boy - crouched in fear several yards behind. The baby was silent in the older girl’s arms (thank every god ever) but the younger girl was crying as the armed men approached the path. 

"Not a chance," Buri retorted. She stepped forward to stand in front of the princess and planted her feet, staring coldly at the men. They might once have been soldiers - one wore Wilima colors - but it was clear from their ragged shirts and mismatched gear that they had long-since turned to banditry. As had half the countryside, these days. The other half was just dying.

"Buri" Thayet commanded, shouldering her aside. "Run. I’ll follow in a minute.”

Buri bared her teeth, at the bandits as much as Thayet. Not that the men were intimidated - two seventeen-year-old girls, even if one was an armed K’mir? They probably looked like free truffles to a pig.

Not that Thayet was intimidated either. “Buri,” she repeated, and for a moment sounded so much like Kalasim that the young K’mir blinked. The illusion wasn’t particularly broken by Thayet digging her elbow pointedly into Buri’s side - Kalasim could be quite forceful. Used to be.

But then, so…had Buri’s mother. 

"No," Buri said with equal firmness. She didn’t turn her body from the coming fight, because she wasn’t stupid, but for a moment she put her short sword in her left hand so she could grab her princess by the arm, pull her close, and kiss her on the lips. Then she pushed her back up the path. "You go, and I’ll be behind you as soon as I have these pigs’ balls on my belt."