#I HAD TO.

[moeyoon]

𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒑𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆 ♡

[chronicowboy]

9-1-1 season 8, episode 6: confessions | fleabag season 2, episode 4

[agnes-draws]

someone help poor alastair

[knights-of-the-glittery-table]

Joel Kinnaman as Takeshi Kovacs

Altered Carbon (2018)

[stackedbirds]

hualian cooking together for tgcf for gaza :)

[bsdtual]

I’ve come to make an announcement: Dazai’s a bitch-ass motherfucker, he pissed on my fucking wife! That’s right, he took his twink-fuckin’ quilly dick out and he pissed on my fucking wife, and he said his dick was “this big,” and I said “that’s disgusting,” so I’m making a callout post on my Twitter.com: Dazai, you’ve got a small dick, It’s the size of this walnut except WAY smaller. And guess what? Here’s what my dong looks like! That’s right, baby, tall points, no quills, no pillows — look at that, it looks like two balls and a bong! He fucked my wife, so guess what, I’m gonna fuck the Earth! That’s right, this is what you get: my SUPER LASER PISS!! Except I’m not gonna piss on the Earth, I’m gonna go higher!! I’m pissing ON THE MOON! How do you like that, Mori?! I PISSED ON THE MOON, YOU IDIOT!! You have twenty-three hours before the piss drrrrroplllllllets hit the fucking Earth! Now get outta my fucking sight, before I piss on you too!

[twildflower]

[viivdle]

nothing to add.

[sleeptaken]

[muqingfx]

pei ming: Are we fighting or flirting?

hua cheng: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-

pei ming: Your point?

[saintofdaggers]

Mr. White and Mr. Orange (Reservoir Dogs) // THE KILLS - BULLET SOUND

[57sfinest]

LOGIC -- Let's say, hypothetically, you are a Barbie girl. Okay, let's even say you’re in a Barbie world. Right, so- in this scenario you would obviously know from personal experience that life in plastic is fantastic. Wouldn't it be reasonable to assume that one could brush your hair and undress you literally everywhere? Imagination, you can derive from the fundamentals of basic logic, that life is your creation.

[chaoticmoron]

Busts down your door

Hi! :3

That's all

[halcyonfawn]

A small made-up whouffaldi kind-of-fanfiction based on this exchange from the first draft of "Mummy in the Orient Express"

Read on AO3. The Doctor and Clara are both stretching and yawning as they let themselves into neighbouring rooms.

"Well, I’m bushed. See you in the morning, Clara."

"Night, Doctor."

Clara pecks him on the cheek. When she pulls away, there's a trace of something red on the Doctor's face.

"Oh. You've got a-"

She pats herself on the cheek slightly.

"What?"

The Doctor seeks the answer in her eyes, but finds nothing there. Clara sighs.

"Lipstick. You've got a spot."

A frown. Then he touches the wrong side of his face. She watches him try to feel something there. All in vain, obviously. Eventually, Clara rolls her eyes and takes the matter into her own hands.

"God, let me do it-"

She attempts to destroy the evidence with her finger, but it's not coming off. She moves closer. Concentrates.

"Ah, I think I've made it worse..."

The Doctor is silent, watching her intensively. A strange feeling rises from his chest up to his throat. Two hearts beat wildly against his ribcage. The feeling seems familiar, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

When his breathing becomes ragged, Clara looks up. Their eyes meet. He stares. She freezes. They stay like that for a while until Clara speaks in a small voice:

"I think... some water might help to wipe this off..."

The Doctor heaves a breath.

"Good idea. Lucky to have a sink in my room."

"Everybody has a sink in their room."

"But not mirrors. And I'll need a mirror. D'you have a mirror?"

"No."

"You always carry a small glass circle with you fussing over it getting lost, and now, when it's needed, you don't have it. Humans."

"This dress has no pockets in it!"

"Well then you should take it off!"

There is an expression on Clara's face he hasn't learned yet. Neither he understands why her nosetrills begin to inflate.

"Right," Clara manages to croak. "I-I'll see you tomorrow."

The Doctor nods but doesn't pull away. Neither does Clara. Instead, her gaze shifts from his eyes to his lips. Oh. There's this feeling again. And not a good one. Not in these circumstances. They stare at each other, breathless, exhausted, barely standing. They should really go to sleep.

And they do.

A few moments later, they're still breathless and exhausted, but this time a comfy bed is there to save them from falling. In fact, they already did. A bunch of times.

The sink that the Doctor is lucky to have is dry. And, as it turns out, he didn't need a mirror because this "lip-stick" was now all over his body and he can't be bothered removing each red mark. It's pretty sticky. On a good note, Clara took his advice and got rid of the useless piece of clothing. Rather ardently, he must add. She really likes having pockets and detests not having them.

"How did this even happen?"

"We said our last hurrah, then you put your lips on my cheek and then some other places-"

"That was a rhetorical question."

They lay in silence until the Doctor finally remembers why that feeling wasn't appropriate for the situation.

"So. About PE-"

"You are not allowed to talk."

[dangerdragoncat]

Oh dear….

Who made the child cry?