i love when mulder or scully have some extended emo ass voiceover bc that’s their fucking report and skinner whos Just Trying to Do His Damn Job has to read pages of their bullshit like. they never solve a damn case but heres three pages meditating on human mortality also mulder cried on it a little
(Source: starsclly, via dyinghistoric)
[video]
You could make an argument for Steve being in almost any hogwarts house but because I like Steve in situations where he confuses everyone and fucks shit up I kinda really like Slytherin oops
Oh my god yes and also give it to me. Bucky gets sorted into idk Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff after an awkwardly long deliberation but Steve just barely gets the Hat on his head and it doesn’t even pause or give him time to ask to be in Bucky’s house, just instantly screams “SLYTHERIN!“
Everyone is slightly deafened and extremely baffled, they were literally already making room for him over at the Hufflepuff table. The other Slytherins take one look at him and can’t decide if they’re thrilled or terrified; half of them hate him and half of them want to be his own personal Death Eaters because obviously that is where this situation is going, of course it is, wait why is Rogers talking to that Gryffindor with the broomstick fetish and those weird Potions-obsessed Ravenclaws who disappear once a month. Did he just try to beat up Rumlow and Rollins for stealing Foster’s bag, does he not know she’s a mudblood? Why is he even talking to Barton, Barton is practically a Squib!
Cross-house friendships skyrocket, inter-house scuffles also skyrocket, and Professor Pierce’s neutrally pleasant smile suffers greatly. Professor Fury passes out infinite detentions, detentions for everyone.
Natasha Romanoff is mysteriously there for all of them despite never getting caught doing anything ever. No one wants to know why.
(Source: thisisamarvelblogg, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
[video]
everybody should reblog this with the only personality assessment that matters: your favorite disney princess, fav color, fav super hero, fav season
(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)
Headcanon: Steve Rogers has two favorite television programs: Call The Midwife and the in-universe version of Agent Carter, which he refers to as “The Peggy Show.”
As in, “Hey, Sam, did you watch The Peggy Show last night?”
(Sam has started watching it in self defense, because otherwise Steve will just recite the entire plot of the episode to him).
Steve’s favorite parts of The Peggy Show include: when Peggy is right, when Peggy is smarter than men, when Peggy saves the day, and when Peggy punches people. This is the entire show. He likes the entire show.
Once, when Steve went to visit real Peggy, she mentioned that they were making a TV show of her life, and that it was “Completely ridiculous, just fanciful nonsense. In real life my outfits were all significantly better, and the men were all significantly worse.”
(via princehal9000)
[video]
This weekend I was told a story which, although I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, because holy shit is it ever obvious, is kind of blowing my mind.
A friend of a friend won a free consultation with Clinton Kelly of What Not To Wear, and she was very excited, because she has a plus-size body, and wanted some tips on how to make the most of her wardrobe in a fashion culture which deliberately puts her body at a disadvantage.
Her first question for him was this: how do celebrities make a plain white t-shirt and a pair of weekend jeans look chic? She always assumed it was because so many celebrities have, by nature or by design, very slender frames, and because they can afford very expensive clothing. But when she watched What Not To Wear, she noticed that women of all sizes ended up in cute clothes that really fit their bodies and looked great. She had tried to apply some guidelines from the show into her own wardrobe, but with only mixed success. So - what gives?
His answer was that everything you will ever see on a celebrity’s body, including their outfits when they’re out and about and they just get caught by a paparazzo, has been tailored, and the same goes for everything on What Not To Wear. Jeans, blazers, dresses - everything right down to plain t-shirts and camisoles. He pointed out that historically, up until the last few generations, the vast majority of people either made their own clothing or had their clothing made by tailors and seamstresses. You had your clothing made to accommodate the measurements of your individual body, and then you moved the fuck on. Nothing on the show or in People magazine is off the rack and unaltered. He said that what they do is ignore the actual size numbers on the tags, find something that fits an individual’s widest place, and then have it completely altered to fit. That’s how celebrities have jeans that magically fit them all over, and the rest of us chumps can’t ever find a pair that doesn’t gape here or ride up or slouch down or have about four yards of extra fabric here and there.
I knew that having dresses and blazers altered was probably something they were doing, but to me, having alterations done generally means having my jeans hemmed and then simply living with the fact that I will always be adjusting my clothing while I’m wearing it because I have curves from here to ya-ya, some things don’t fit right, and the world is just unfair that way. I didn’t think that having everything tailored was something that people did.
It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t know this. But no one ever told me. I was told about bikini season and dieting and targeting your “problem areas” and avoiding horizontal stripes. No one told me that Jennifer Aniston is out there wearing a bigger size of Ralph Lauren t-shirt and having it altered to fit her.
I sat there after I was told this story, and I really thought about how hard I have worked not to care about the number or the letter on the tag of my clothes, how hard I have tried to just love my body the way it is, and where I’ve succeeded and failed. I thought about all the times I’ve stood in a fitting room and stared up at the lights and bit my lip so hard it bled, just to keep myself from crying about how nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. No one told me that it wasn’t supposed to. I guess I just didn’t know. I was too busy thinking that I was the one that didn’t fit.
I thought about that, and about all the other girls and women out there whose proportions are “wrong,” who can’t find a good pair of work trousers, who can’t fill a sweater, who feel excluded and freakish and sad and frustrated because they have to go up a size, when really the size doesn’t mean anything and it never, ever did, and this is just another bullshit thing thrown in your path to make you feel shitty about yourself.
I thought about all of that, and then I thought that in elementary school, there should be a class for girls where they sit you down and tell you this stuff before you waste years of your life feeling like someone put you together wrong.
So, I have to take that and sit with it for a while. But in the meantime, I thought perhaps I should post this, because maybe my friend, her friend, and I are the only clueless people who did not realise this, but maybe we’re not. Maybe some of you have tried to embrace the arbitrary size you are, but still couldn’t find a cute pair of jeans, and didn’t know why.
This post is one of those things that I will reblog every time it appears on my dash. This is so important, and no one ever tells you about it.
I almost didn’t read this but then I did and I’m really glad that I did.
Super important
Yes! This is why I make the majority of my clothes, and those that I don’t make I thrift fancy stuff and tailor it to fit properly. The best advice I can give is to never settle for off the rack sizing because the arbitrary numbers mean nothing and you will look the best by learning how to sew a little, hem your pants, cut the t-shirt into a crop top, make your skirts waists perfectly, and look rad as heck.
you gotta make the clothes fit you, not make yourself fit the clothes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
(via clockwork-mockingbird)
It really drives me insane that I don’t know how people feel about me. Like am I nice??? Am I funny???? Am I mean???? Am I rude??? Am I obnoxious??? Am I dumb???? What am I????????????????????
(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)
Oh shit. No.
Shit.
Thank youJust gonna reblog this out of gratitude because I actually did forget…
Fffffffff let me get right on that.
and then reblog for the next forgetful son of a bitch
I’m so great full for everyone that is reblogging this. I totally forgot to take mine
(Source: sexioto, via academicfeminist)