I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck.
Those who say the Black Widow’s fighting style is just movie bullshit can see the above. ^ Shit is terrifyingly real.
I think I’m in love.
She’s so tiny.
But she could kill me.
I will reblog this flying head scissors every time it comes on my dash because it’s so fucking awesome.
that, in wrestling, is called a huricarana. i’ve done it to my 6’5, 350+ lb boyfriend :-)
THE ROAD SO FAR
FUCK THIS GODDAMN FUCKING POST.
I laughed WAY harder than I should have! I am pee.
This professor could not find a projector and drew the map of the world himself.
he is too powerful
he must be contained before explosions
I literally do not care about your gender, sexuality or skin colour.
I literally only care about whether you’re a nice fucking human being or not.
so basically you’re racist, sexist and homophobic
how exactly could you have come remotely close to that conclusion
a brony called me unattractive
because i have hair on my legs
Self absorbed Bitch.
i’m a bitch because i can recognize that i’m not ugly, that i can laugh at someone calling me unattractive for reasons as petty as hair on my legs which EVERYONE grows?
She is most definitely not a Bitch, but yes, self absorbed I’d say from the copious amounts of selfies she takes.
found the twelve year old
this is almost as fun as ‘find the vegan’
we are not entertainment clowns. we simply eat healthy. go back to burger king.
i found the vegan
Can we all take a minute to hyperventilate over the fact that they put this signature move in the movie?
Yes we can.
This really gets my feels going. I just— Tony shoots at Steve without really talking about it first. They haven’t even known each other long. He shoots at him and Steve reflects it. Tony trusts Steve to do that, and to reflect it away from Tony, to use the blast to hit the enemies, to actually make this team thing work. Tony says he’s not a team player, but he is. He so totally is. He can’t even pretend he isn’t, especially when he does things like this.
Reblogging for the comment above ^
Telling the substitute teacher the wrong names: a classic. Telling the substitute teacher you are so old and born again every day, that ten thousand names could never define you, that you’re a shadowed mass swirling forth from jupiter, that your father is time and your mother is death, that you’ll swallow any scream of hers as you grow larger and ever larger: a super classic, king of the school, no homework ever.
and now, the weather