a hundred jewels between teeth

you boys sure have a lot of friendship there

124,492 notes

To all the Tumblr users who tend to use tags very liberally:


Let’s play a game.

Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up.

you, also, what, when, why, how, look, because, never

(via katiesomething)

Filed under YOU GO BABY GIRL also i appreciate the punk-ass book jockeys mention what a BAMF ahhhh remember when why are you a person how can i walk away EVERYBODY STOP LOOKING AT ME Because I am in tears i could never remember to use clever tags consistently

9 notes

an easter story for you, tumblr:

in 2011, my family spent easter out of town with some family friends. we drove home in the evening, and when we got back, out front door was wide open.

the first few minutes were tense, us kids waiting in the kitchen while my mom and dad poked around making sure everything was okay. but pretty soon we figured out we had nothing to worry about—nothing had been stolen, and there were no robbers hiding in our closets. but we no idea how the door could have opened while we were away.

it was an unsolved mystery, and for a few hours we started to forget that it had happened. but as we were all settling in for the night, we suddenly heard my mom shout from the living room, and we all rushed down to see what was wrong.

sitting on the table was a tiny wooden figurine of the baby jesus.

we’re not a particularly religious family, but we do have an old wooden nativity scene that we set up in our house every christmas season. this past christmas, we had lost the baby jesus, and my mom had spent a long time tearing up couch cushions and interrogating us about whether we’d taken it. and yet somehow, after all that searching, it had just shown up, right where the nativity scene was usually displayed.

my mom turned to me with wide eyes and said, “oh my god. i think jesus is risen.”

i looked back at her. “i think he came in through the front door.”

a few seconds later, nobody in my family could stop laughing.

for about a year after that, the baby jesus became a running joke for us. he would show up in backpacks, in shoes, and under pillows. once, i left him in a box of granola bars that nobody wanted to eat for a full month until my dad finally discovered him. he found his way into my suitcase when i first left for college, and reappeared in my dad’s closet during my first visit home. we were a family that barely even attended church anymore, but we loved the baby jesus like one of our own.

eventually we learned that my brother had taken the figurine and planned his triumphant resurrection—but the open door wasn’t part of his plan. to this day, we still don’t know how it opened, or who left it like that. like the stone rolled away from jesus’s tomb, some mysteries can never be explained.

Filed under i just love telling this story okay my life

1,440 notes


So I’ve decided Steve totally wore that unbelievably tight shirt as a way of getting Sam’s attention.

He spots Sam while they’re both running, but he can’t think of how to start a conversation that won’t be awkward.

He mentions it to Natasha during one of her insistent and almost always bizarrely-timed attempts to improve his love life.

“There’s a guy on my jogging route,” he admits, ducking bullets or punches or both.

“You should talk to him,” Natasha says as she drops another mercenary.

Steve dodges a knife swing and knocks the guy unconscious. “I don’t even know his name.”

“That’s what the talking’s for.”

“We’re always both running, isn’t there some kind of etiquette about not interrupting?”

“Depends,” she says, snatching a rifle from the guy aiming at her and smoothly dismantling it into three pieces before hitting him over the head with one of them. She drops the pieces on his prone form with a shrug and looks at Steve. “Just how desperate are you?”

Steve pauses for a millisecond. “What am I gonna say?”

He only ever passes by the guy, and they both keep to their own bit of path; it’s not like he needs to yell ‘watch out’.

She smirks as they walk to their extraction point. “You’ll think of something. And if that fails then just a wear a smaller size of whatever you usually go running in.”

He makes a face. “Really?”

“You have assets, Rogers, it’s just good sense to use them to their full effect.”

The chopper’s close enough Steve can hear the rotors whumping. “Fine, but if it doesn’t work you can’t try and fix me up for a month.”

She smirks again but doesn’t say anything, which means she’s planning something.

When he wakes up the next morning, the shirt’s sitting neatly folded on his bedside table. He’s given up asking Natasha not to pick the locks.

The note placed on top reads “Desperate times…

Even if he can’t think of anything better in the moment than ‘on your left’, it only takes a few repetitions to get a response, and he’s only a little worried about the shirt cutting off the circulation in his arms.

The guy’s name is Sam.

It’s all worth it.

(via racetrackconlon)

Filed under my kiiiiIIIIIDS steve rogers sam wilson natasha romanov winter soldier avengers mcu