linzeestyle:

 (via marvelobsessions)

That’s why I love it so much though.  Because it’s so, so easy to forget this — SHIELD constantly forgets this — but Steve *is* a child.  He was twenty-six years old and terrified when he died.  And to him, that was maybe ten days ago.  Just — ten days ago, he died.  Eleven days ago, he watched his best friend and protector fall to his death in a clusterfuck he will always believe was his fault.  Ten days ago, he died while the listening to Peggy cry on the other end of a static-filled radio.  Ten days ago, he was still in 1945.  He was supposed to leave it; it wasn’t supposed to leave him.  And he woke up, and everyone he loved was gone, and now he’s confronted with an agency that’s lying to him about everything and he’s just found in their storage facility the exact weapon that killed the person he loved most and he’s arguing with a man who looks far too much like someone he called a friend, who he knows now is dead, who died violently in a car crash, and he doesn’t know Tony well enough to know this is how he deals with fear, so to him, this is just…someone with money, with all the privilege and padding he and Bucky never had, who would never have to go to war if he didn’t want to, making light of a situation way too close to Steve’s chest.

Steve was being prickly as hell through most of this movie, but he was bleeding out and in pain and had no one to bleed on.  The comment he makes to Tony, about knowing guys with none of that worth ten of him?  Imagine all of the people he was thinking about then.  All of the people he knew he’d never see again; who he wished he wasn’t standing there to never see again.  Trying to organize a time bomb and remembering the Commandos.  Trying to co-lead with a man he doesn’t yet understand, and remembering Bucky.  Trying so hard not to keep seeing him fall.  Being expected to be above all of those messy human emotions, because he’s Captain America, and while he was asleep that name became a legend so much bigger than any real, living person could be.

He’s only twenty-six.

I just made myself sad.

pretty-delights:

art nouveau crown illustrations

biolumo

*hollers loudly and wants them all as tattoos*

skepticalporcupine:

shvnyyy-e:

zwamboobs:

blazepress:

Filming a rainbow when suddenly.

Sick

what the fuck

the gays are evolving

skepticalporcupine:

shvnyyy-e:

zwamboobs:

blazepress:

Filming a rainbow when suddenly.

Sick

what the fuck

the gays are evolving

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

If I am ever lucky enough to be a mom, I will NEVER make my son or daughter feel the way my parents made me feel
NEVER

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

If I am ever lucky enough to be a mom, I will NEVER make my son or daughter feel the way my parents made me feel

NEVER

kiss-kiss-fall-over:

hexfawn:

i made an aesthetic generator now you can discover urself

Sloth core. You’re right. It’s me. I am sloth core.

Communism dad

joshpeck:

thesylverlining:

what happened in roughly 1870 though
why was there temporary internet
with a few people searching for pokemon?

joshpeck:

thesylverlining:

what happened in roughly 1870 though

why was there temporary internet

with a few people searching for pokemon?

image

tylenold:

did u kno: ur icon is actually you in 20 years

Makes sense

fuckyeahalternativefashion:

Dolce & Gabbana AW13 Details

fuckyeahalternativefashion:

Dolce & Gabbana AW13 Details

uhbishop:

sick cinematography - tron: legacy

Six selfies cause this is a thing I guess?

The effect of the cultural bomb is to annihilate a people’s belief in their names, in their languages, in their environment, in their heritage of struggle, in their unity, in their capacities and ultimately in themselves. It makes them see their past as one wasteland of non-achievement and it makes them want to distance themselves from that wasteland. It makes them want to identify with that which is furthest removed from themselves; for instance, with other peoples’ languages rather than their own. It makes them identify with that which is decadent and reactionary, all those forces that would stop their own springs of life. It even plants serious doubts about the moral righteousness of struggle. Possibilities of triumph or victory are seen as remote, ridiculous dreams. The intended results are despair, despondency and a collective death-wish.
Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Decolonising the Mind (via daughterofzami)

Looking at PhD programmes before I even start my masters, like a boss

dope-shiettt:

iguanamouth:

youre gonna look so goddamn cool

battlefranky36