enjolrasthechief:

Can I send a thank you note to the wardrobe department for these shorts

doomslock:

sometimes i forget that fictional characters aren’t really my friends

allie-whack:

almost-always-eventually-right:

Then, this one soldier who just wanted a cool photograph gets murdered by terrorists that are specifically targeting Tony Stark.

This was the moment that made Tony Stark reevaluate his entire life.

This was the moment that made Tony Stark cut the weapons program.

This was the moment that Tony Stark became Iron Man.

This was the moment that never truly left him.

Because it’s after this moment that Tony Stark proceeds to spend the rest of his life making peace-signs in photos, in honor of a young man who was more of a man than Tony could’ve ever dreamt of being; whose death Tony spent months agonizing over and trying to ensure wasn’t in vain.

Can you not what are you doing to my feels why are you always doing this.

francebeforeyourpantsmarius:

YOU ARE NOT “JUST LIKE EPONINE” BECAUSE YOU LIKE A BOY WHO DOESN’T LIKE YOU BACK

hermione-writes-fanfiction:

This went right over my head as a kid.

internetexplorers:

we could be married with like 4 kids and i’d still be too scared to text you first

because-stony:

Casual Kiss by ~lilnaugrim

happilymourning:

thatsqualitystuff:

we were taking our math test and i turned around and

can we just talk about not only whatever is all over that girl’s face, but the guy charging his phone in the back and the kid on the right who looks like he’s in immense pain

this picture is like the perfect description of school tho

mostgay:

I have a tab open of a picture of Harriett Tubman that I switch to whenever my parents walk in and think I’m doing homework.

I think I’ve been doing it since fifth grade idk why they haven’t caught on I just stare intently at the picture until they leave. 

for heaven shall remember the silent and the brave: a thought about Feuilly's death, though →

thecoffeetragedy:

that post I reblogged made me think.

So, Feuilly, the night before the final battle, takes a few hours to write on the wall. Vivent les peuples! It’s there in the book. It’s still readable 16 years later, in 1848.

Then he dies, leaving no one behind - no one that we know…