reapersun:

Sherlock/The Last Unicorn (movie version)

haha I’m such a fucking nerd

OMFG YOU LAST UNICORN-ED SHERLOCK HOW CAN I NOT REBLOG!?

doctorwho:

Karen Gillan on Midnight

theofficialariel:

Look at what they thought women would be wearing nowadays. 
I love this. 

where the fuck is all our Xena Gear?!

theofficialariel:

Look at what they thought women would be wearing nowadays. 

I love this. 

where the fuck is all our Xena Gear?!

iwillartforyou:

I made a Welcome to Night Vale Dress! <3

want

ANUBIS NO

roachpatrol:

kenaabik:

So I see this

image

and all I can think is 

image

this

image

image

oestranhomundodek:

 

gluecookie:

thecolinbaker:

[dr who theme playing in the background]

image

The Sleeping Beatuy (+ details) by John Collier (1850-1934)

oil on canvas, 1921

Dammit one way to notice you are hitting that getting old stage is when the tomb stones of young adults on TV have the birth of date the same year you started kindergarten

This was my Dad. Howard Taylor, He died 3/19/2014 after a short battle with type 4 lung cancer.

He took me as his own child from the very first day I was adopted. He was loudest crazy cussing scary little man I’ve known. He was also had a big heart. I learned my colorful cussing vocabulary from this man and i also learned my love for animals from him. He made me learn common sense (some) and the joy of working with your hands, and creating.

He was a man who could scare a whole school office room empty when his daughter’s psychologist appointed journal was taken from her by a Teacher.  He was also a man who would shed real tears over a poor animals/pets death.

While mom would tell me, my sisters and nieces /nephews no to the stray cat/dog my dad would sneak said animal into the basement or garage and help feed and take care of it until mom relented and allowed us to keep it.

He would pop us in the back of the head when we said/done something stupid, uttering ‘bonehead’ or ‘quit it schmuck’, but when it came to real punishment he’d do anything in his power to avoid it.

My dad told the wildest stories. I loved going to his work room as he painted his modeled air planes or worked on something and listening to the same jems over and over. I never grew bored hearing about his one black cat who used to eat bees until his face was all swollen. Or the Demon cat that his friend brought home. Or some real historical facts that school never taught me.

My dad also told tall tales that had made all of us foolish at one point, because we believed him. Mine was that when my dad was little Indians used to get mad at how they were treated and cut the telephone wires to stop the TV from playing their shows and that’s why in the old cartoons the Indians head would pop up when the TV show was cut off. (i was in 3rd grade before I was able to put it together that Telephones were not connected to the TV and all my dads growing up with the Native Americans circling the mobile homes was bull shit because he was born in the 50’s)

He was the one to wake me up every morning for school for 13 years ( I was held back once). Opening the door with  ‘Hey Gator. Gator wake up time for school.’ His personal nickname he gave me because i refused to talk much for a week after i was taken in and the first discussion i had with him was about Alligators.

In the early days he’ was the one to make me breakfast. Drove me to school if i missed the bus or picked me up from school. Sometimes in Trucks as old as he was that had no floors. (I lost some shoes to that old white truck)

He wasn’t perfect by a long shot , but he was my dad. I’m going to miss car grease/oil seined smelled hugs. Callous hands patting my back and the long string of profanity echoing outside. I will keep your stories daddy. I’ll pass them on. I’ll try fix what I can with what you taught me, and I’ll use my common sense more. I love you. I’ll see you again one day, I’m sure of it and I’ll have stories to tell you.

pixography:

Charles Chaisson ~ "Soul Searcher"

pixography:

Charles Chaisson ~ "Soul Searcher"