The Doctor references in Torchwood
Neville shouted “Oh my God, I’ve killed Harry Potter!” in his fourth year, which means at 14 years old he was already confident that he was more competent than Lord Voldemort
that lil bitch
matt smith reading his last lines as the doctor for the first time.
Now I’m crying
I don’t even watch the show and I’m crying
THIS is my most favorite post ever!
everyone’s got that couple of fanfics that you just read over and over even though you practically know it by heart because it’s so perfect it’s like a favorite book and you just catch yourself clicking to a random chapter on it because it’s so good it’s comforting to reread it
and in that moment, a theater full of teenagers and adults burst into tears
i always wanna draw cas with cats (^・ω・^ )~
The Doctor is very particular about his kidneys.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen an archer in a film run out of arrows or collect used arrows to reuse later.
Accuracy: You’re doing it right.
accuracy? this is a movie about a small band of fantabulous people with random superpowers who defeat an alien invasion led by a guy with golden goat horns and you’re worried about accuracy?
firstly: tony, nat, and clint do not have superpowers, they rely on their skills to survive
secondly: thor is not human, other than the use of his hammer, he is relying on the natural strength and fighting abilities of his people
thirdly: bruce and steve were both perfectly ordinary until science got involved
lastly: what supervillain doesn’t have at least one questionable fashion decision?
i’m gonna cry omg
SHE WAS WEARING BLACK SHE WAS GUNNA GO I’M GUNNA PUNCH A SNOWMAN I’M SO ANGRY
Day 6: Favourite Sherlock Quote → “I’m in shock! Look, I’ve got a blanket.”
I’ve been laughing at myself for the last 20 minutes.
*cough* boyfriends wearing colour-coordinated shirts
Accidental clothes sharing fic for blaineswolf oops
You fit me better
“ – I’ve been thinking about a way to get rid of these faeries without everything erupting into chaos and bloodshed again, and – dude, are you even listening to anything I’m saying?” Stiles asks, snapping his fingers right in front of Scott’s nose just to be an asshole. In his defence, he doesn’t like being ignored, and Scott does startle a little at his sudden motion, which gives him reason to be extra smug about his childish behaviour. It’s not often he manages to surprise a werewolf, he has to revel in it.
Scott grimaces, looking satisfyingly contrite. “Sorry, man. I just – are you wearing Derek’s shirt?”
Stiles frowns in confusion and looks down at himself to see that yes, he is, in fact, wearing a Henley that most certainly does not belong to him. His entire wardrobe consists solely of plaid shirts, t-shirt, some sweatshirts and, well, more plaid, which he really wishes Lydia would stop judging him for. Plaid is iconic, okay, and wearing layers makes him look less like the scrawny, gangly seventeen-year-old he is. Not everyone has the body to pull off tight Henleys that show off your killer abs.
“Uh,” Stiles says. He’s not entirely sure how he ended up wearing a Henley that for all intents and purposes shouldn’t be found anywhere near his house, but then again, this morning had been kind of a blur because he’d slept through his alarm and had only just stumbled out of bed in time to grab the first thing in his drawer and brush his teeth being half-asleep before racing to school.
“How do you – do you smell him on that shirt?” he asks, suddenly curious, lifting the hem up to sniff at it himself. It doesn’t smell like anything but laundry detergent to him, fresh and clean, and, uh, kind of warm. Not that warm is a smell. It’s also surprisingly soft – he always figured Derek wore the most uncomfortable clothing in history, either as a form of punishing himself or to make it easier for him to scowl at everyone and everything.
“Yeah, I do,” Scott confirms.
“That’s kind of cool,” Stiles says. “Though if you can still smell that, I really don’t wanna know what the locker room smells like to you after practice. This must’ve been in my drawer for months. Which reminds me, that bastard still has one of my t-shirts.”
Scott’s eyebrows climb higher up his forehead. “Anything I should know?”
Stiles punches him in the shoulder. “Not like that, dude. Remember the time Derek was a wanted fugitive?”
Point. “The one after Peter trapped us in the school and we saved him from being shot by the Argents? He thought it was a good idea to hide in my room for a bit, and his shirt was kind of bloody, so when Danny came over to do lab work I gave him one of mine and put this one into the laundry. He looks enough like a serial killer on a good day; being covered in blood didn’t really help him look inconspicuous. I figured he’d come through my window like the creeper he is and take it back.” He shrugs. “Guess he was too busy with the almost dying and maiming people and biting a bunch of teenagers and then almost dying again to come pick it up.”
“And now you’ve claimed it for yourself?”
“I’m not giving it back until I get my shirt back, dude. I’m not rich, I can’t afford to give free shirts to alpha werewolves who have enough money to drive around in pretentious cars but don’t even live in decent living spaces.” Stiles tilts his head, rubs his finger along the soft material. “Actually, I might consider it payment for housing him and putting up with him.”
Scott snorts. “Yeah, right.”