i’ll just stay here

(Source: ootron)

Album Art

spacetea:

pheromonerain:

Just wait for it.

fuck

(Source: noneuclidean)

Played 464184 times.

tom-sits-like-a-whore:

Okay. But let’s talk about Thor for a second. Thor does not get enough love and (Loki forgive me) he is honestly one of the best fucking characters Marvel has. And it’s shown so simply and so beautifully right here. He is so fucking chill about everything. Obviously, he doesn’t live in space, he lives in Asgard. But he knows everyone thinks he’s kinda like an alien, and he just goes along with it because why not? These humans are funny in their lack of understanding, but it’s an endearing kind of funny. Just like in the first movie, where Darcy tells him to smile so she can take a picture of him and he has no fucking clue what she’s doing or what a phone is and it could kill him for all he knows but he just fucking smiles and keeps eating his delicious pancakes because he’s just so chill like that. And if you look at his face in the first gif, it’s very serious and concentrated but the moment Darcy starts talking to him he loosens up and is like “Muscles? Ah, yes I suppose I am quite muscular. Oh, she’s inquiring about Asgard. But she called it space. She seems confused as to my origins, but it’s not of import. I like space, that’s a good name. I shall call it space too.”

And that little head nod he does back to her in the last gif. I’m dead. Deceased. Murdered from Thor cuteness

He’s just.. ugh, Thor doesn’t get enough appreciation. There are so many little things he does that go ignored but no more. His complete adorableness will be appreciated.

(Source: margahery)

(Source: slugbooks)

Anonymous Asked
Questiondo you ever get tired of Kim being an unrealistic character who is pretty and super smart somehow? That is not how life works. Answer

dresdencodak:

Hmm yes give me more of your insight

actorswithactionfigures:

brianmichaelbendis:

Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. - Season 1 Bloopers

#eheehee

(Source: youtube.com)

"

Persephone Lied

The truth is, I was bored.
My mother blissing ahead of me, rosebuds rising in her footsteps,
And I skulking behind, thinking,
Oh look. She walks in beauty.
Again.

Her power could boil rivers, if she chose.
She doesn’t choose. She scatters
Heliotrope behind her.

And me, I’ve no powers. I think she’d like
A decorative daughter. A link to the humans
She feeds with her scattered wheat.
A daughter wed to a swineherd’s just the thing
To show that Demeter’s a down-to-earth
Kind of goddess.

Do you know what swineherds talk about?
Swine.
Diseases of, ways to cook;
“That ‘un’s got no milk for ‘er shoats;
Him, there, he’s got boggy trotters.”

And when he leaned in, smiling,
While we sat in a bower sagged with Mother’s honeysuckle,
When he said, “Now,
My herd’s growing and I’m thinking I could feed a wife—”
That’s when I snapped, I howled, I ran.

And when a hole opened up, a beautiful black, in all the pastels of my mother’s sowing.
Let me fix the lie: Nobody grabbed, nobody pulled.
I jumped.

I thought it was a tiny earthquake,
Thought I was killing myself,
Starting a long journey to Hades.
It was a more direct trip
Than I’d imagined—
I landed in his lap.

He just looked at me, said “Well,”
And kept driving his chariot down,
Flicked his leather reins near my face.
He did not give me flowers.
He never spoke of pigs.

Didn’t speak much at all. Just took me down in darkness
And did dark things.
I liked them.

I stumbled through his grey gardens, after,
Sore and smiling.
And the gardener said, “Little girl,
Little sunlit flower,
You belong in the world above.
Trust that they’ll come for you,
But while you wait
Don’t eat the food of the dead, for it will trap you here.”
And I said give me the fucking fruit.

But when I ate I could hear her howling,
See her spreading winter on the world.
My poor mother, who missed me after all;
My poor swineherd, starving.
Huddled up for warmth with the few he hadn’t eaten.

I spat out half the seeds.

So now I suffer through the summers,
Smile at the swineherd who tells me
Which shoat is off its feed.
Smile at my mother and walk behind her.
My powers have come to me now, and in her candy-colored wake I scatter
Sundew and flytrap, nettles and belladonna.

I smile and wait for November,
For when I come back to you.
Your clever cold hands and your hard black boots.
I don’t ask what the leather is made from.
I don’t think I want to know.

"

Source (via fypoetry)

god I am so glad that reclaiming the hades and persephone mythos is a Thing

so, so glad

(via comradewodka)