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pagalini:

"At last, we are alone. At last we are, all of us, alone together. At last, every human, alone together, on this earth. Welcome to Night Vale."

- Cecil Palmer

Thursday, 17th of April

Good luck tomorrow honey! You’ll be fine and brilliant and everything will go fine. I know this because I am super-smart and all-knowing :P

But I will also say (because no one said this to me and it would have really helped me) that even if you fail, even if something worthy of a sitcom happens (I don’t know, like you trip, fall, pull down one professor’s trousers as you go and accidentally land face-first in another’s crotch) that you will still be awesome, brilliant and lovely, and I will love you just as much. So go in like you have nothing to lose. Give them hell, my dearest <3

Thursday, 17th of April
Wednesday, 16th of April
#baby   #supernatural   #dean  

I have to say, all those years since ‘96 where perhaps I thought, as I did at one time, that the Eighth Doctor, by dint of the failed TV pilot… that the Eighth Doctor, though liked in some quarters, perhaps wasn’t so liked in others, and was only tolerated in the scheme of things…

There’s no doubt now, in my mind, that the Eighth Doctor is part of it, that he’s right there in the heart of it. He has earned his place, and that’s really gratifying.

—— Paul Mcgann, discussing the impact of “The Night of the Doctor” in an interview with Doctor Who Magazine (via beyond-the-hills-of-tomorrow)
Wednesday, 16th of April

It’s hard not to feel broken
when it’s always quiet enough
to hear your pieces rattle.

Wednesday, 16th of April

In Britain, make-up might have been hard to find, but it was worn with pride and became a symbol of the will to win. ‘Put your best face forward,’ encouraged a 1942 Yadley advertisement in Churchillian tones. ‘War, Woman and Lipstick' ran a celebrated Tangee campaign. Bright red was the favourite wartime colour for lips and nails and lipstick names were often patriotic: Louis Phillippe's Patriotic Red; Fighting Red by Tussy and Grenadier - The new Military red created by Tattoo, effective with air force blue and khaki.

During wartime, a subtle change had taken place in the marketing and the perception of make-up. It was no longer about making a woman seem ‘dainty’, but making her look and feel strong. Rosie the Riveter became a wartime icon in the USA, representing the six million women working in factories for the war effort. [Rockwell] portrayed Rosie as a vast figure in work dungarees, her short sleeves revealing arms the size of prize-winning hams. Behind her hangs the stars and stripes, squashed carelessly under her feet is a copy of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf, and on her mighty lap rests a lunch box and a huge riveting machine like an enormous gun. [Her] henna red curls, lipsticked mouth and painted finger nails stress her femininity, emphasising the fact that make-up too was a weapon of war [Madeleine Marsh, Compact and Cosmetics: Beauty from the Victorian Times to the Present Day]

Wednesday, 16th of April
Wednesday, 16th of April
Wednesday, 16th of April

stormbornvalkyrie:

Lagertha & Aslaug | Vikings 2.05

Wednesday, 16th of April
#babes   #vikings  

debatchery:

I was just trying to fit in.

Wednesday, 16th of April

lisaravenscroft:

destihellsyeah:

#not even the marK OF CAIN CAN STOP THIS MOTHERFUCKIN SHIP

One of the most remarkable parts about this scene for me is that Dean had already been talking on the phone. This wasn’t the first time that Dean had spoken in this conversation. But it was the first time that Dean spoke and sounded more like himself…the first time he spoke and it wasn’t all business. 

Cas made the remark about the honor bar and Dean couldn’t help but respond with his snarky “everything” and then Cas smiles like… “Oh there you are, that’s my Dean…that’s the Dean that I fell in love with.” And you can see that love written on his face…see that love written in his sweet smile.

They’ve already been talking to each other but Cas chooses now to ask Dean how he is. Dean, never one to be honest about how he’s actually doing, replies with his standard answer of “okay” or “fine” or “I’m alright” but you can see on his face that he’s not okay. He’s tired. He’s worn out. He’s fighting battles inside and out. 

How long has it been since we last saw Dean truly smile? And yet when he asks Cas how he’s doing and Cas responds and is being all Cas-like, we see this small but beautifully real smile from Dean. 

These two weary warriors that are battling heaven and hell and their own inner demons, that are tired and down-trodden, and yet they can still smile like this because of each other. And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is. 

Wednesday, 16th of April
Wednesday, 16th of April
Wednesday, 16th of April

dustline:

dustline:

"How are you, Dean?"

(x)

#Dean looks so so knackered #just utterly bone weary #like the kind of tired that makes you sick and shaky #but he manages a smile #one smile in the whole freaking episode #and it’s here (x)

Wednesday, 16th of April

A letter to the girl who’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend

silkspectred:

Dear Lisa,

I’ve heard the news. Congratulations.

I hope you’ll be happy with him. I hope he won’t do to you all the things he did to me. I hope he won’t ever beat the shit out of you if you talk to another boy. I hope he’ll never yell in your face that you’re a slut and deserve nothing. I hope he’ll never slap you when you try to react. I hope he’ll never spit in your hair. I hope he’ll never push you to a wall and tell you to be quiet. I hope he’ll never force you to have sex with him even when you don’t want to. I hope he’ll never whisper horrible words in your ear while he pushes inside you, making you cry, out of many different kinds of pain. I hope he’ll never make you bleed for days. I hope you won’t have to hide bruises from your family. I hope he won’t isolate you from your friends. I hope he won’t try to control every move you make. I hope he won’t impose on you an unbearable level of public humiliation. I hope he won’t manage to convince you that you’re in love with him despite everything, and that he’s just damaged but good, and that you can fix him with your love. I hope you won’t confuse abuse with love for years. I hope he won’t cheat on you, not even once. I hope he’ll say that he loves you, and I hope it’ll be true. I hope he won’t break up with you and keep playing with your feelings for months. I hope you won’t realise in ten years that what he did to you was incredibly fucked up, and a crime. I hope you won’t repress and remove your memories of him to deal with your life, and I hope those memories won’t come back in a rush ten years later leaving you raw and broken, both desperate for closure and scared of meeting him by chance around town. I hope he won’t give you a ten years delayed PTSD and depression. I hope you’ll be happy together. I hope you’ll live a fulfilling and joyous life together.

And I don’t hope all that because I want him to be happy, because believe me, I don’t. But I wouldn’t wish what he did to me not even on my worst enemy. I hope yours will be the perfect marriage. I hope he’ll be good to you just as much as he wasn’t to me.

Again, congratulations.

Wednesday, 16th of April