capaow:

sashkash:

Put together this little piece for the lovely Baker Street Babes and their huge event that’s coming up in November - SHERLOPALOOZA - an amazing day filled with Sherlock, Q&As, and niffty things for the Holmesian community. [More info here] [tickets]

Oh my god.

(via somachiou)

(via charlie-hieronymus-pace)

(via fatherlarryduff)

(via thevesuviusclub)

awwwww

(via green-underwear)

Kate Nash = wonderful

cryptoscience:

mrbutts:

sarcasmosaur:

catbountry:

baruyon:

Beauty and the Beast, genderswapped. I hope you like it and don’t think it’s too silly…

Bigger version and better description at my DA

That’s adorable.

This is a fairy tale that needs to be genderbent more often.

whoa, this is really awesome

Ahmaazing

(via green-underwear)

truebluemeandyou:

truebluemeandyou: Me Met, Me Married, We Live. Reblogging because. Read my post on why I reblog.

DIY Love Map. Found at Minimoz here. This has been posted on tumblr, but not taken from the original tutorial site, thus those posts have blurry and small images. Love this idea. Could be changed to birth, school, present or whatever you want. Cheap and clever. My favorite things.

(via truebluemeandyou)

(via green-underwear)

pollums:

boyfrans

(via green-underwear)

thenaughtynerdyomar:

randomlancila:

podunkqueer:

Also…

Sorry to frighten the fuck out of my new followers.

THIS^ is love. I was dying, due to pcp pneumonia and acute respiratory failure/distress.  I lost over 150lbs, one of my lungs collapsed and will never re inflate, I had chest tubes, multiple IV’s, I was on a ventilator, had a tracheostomy, had to re-learn how to walk, talk, eat and breathe on my own, all over again. My husband, was there for me EVERY. FUCKING. DAY. The amazing doctors and nurses at KU Medical Center ALL commented on how amazingly dedicated my husband was. How few husbands show such tenderness and love. I would have died, had he not been there to keep me going.

I have a man who wiped my ass for me because I messed myself in my hospital bed.

Now, tell me that we are going to ruin the sanctity of marriage and I will bust your fucking teeth out.

Wow. <3

This….

(via anescapedfish)

(via green-underwear)

ack-ack-haldane:

The night before her husband’s burial, Katherine Cathey sleeps next to her husband, 2nd Lt. James Cathey, USMC (killed in Iraq), for the last time. Katherine refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before falling asleep, she opened her laptop and played songs that reminded her of “Cat”. One of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. “I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it,” she replied. “I think that’s what he would have wanted.”

I can’t decide who is more honorable: the faithful wife lying next to her husband at the very end or the Marines standing guard over them both throughout the night.

This really doesn’t seem healthy. But everyone deals with grief in a different way I suppose. Maybe it’s different if you’ve not seen them in months, I don’t know. Beautiful photo anyway.

(via writeoutoflove)

Instead of weighing yourself, take personal stock in a more direct fashion. Feel your body, including all the soft parts, the ones you like and the ones you don’t. Look at yourself in a large mirror. Naked. Every day. If I were a pessimist I’d call this aversion therapy, but really it’s meant to get you familiar with yourself on a seriously intimate level. Resist the urge to judge; just look.

If it helps, imagine you are exploring an unknown territory on another world, and you must memorize every feature. Mounds and crevices and varied textures are not unpleasant in a landscape; they simply exist. See everything, as often as you can stand it, until you know your body thoroughly. After all, this IS what your body looks like, whether you are seeing it or not.

On a day to day basis, we are quite capable of relying on our own personal knowledge of our bodies to tell us how we’re doing, how we’re feeling, and whether anything has changed — without a scale to help. We don’t need a scale. We don’t need a number. We can know when we have gained or lost weight, when something doesn’t look right, when we feel strange or unwell. In order for this to work, we have to cultivate a bodily knowledge, and I believe the scale is an obstacle to that.

With its numbers and its complex web of possible meaning, the scale stands between our bodies and our fullest conscious awareness of them; it defines us by pounds and not by how we actually feel; it enables us to rely on a number to tell us we are doing things right, instead of empowering us to decide when we feel our best.

The scale contributes to a culture that tells us that if we weigh more than X or less than Y then we cannot be happy with ourselves. And that, frankly, is bullshit.

I would watch a movie about gay monk romance SO HARD. Ever since I did that ‘heresy & monasticism in mediaeval Europe’ module at uni, and ended up writing my dissertation about Franciscans, I’ve just fallen in love with monastic history.

I’m a sad sad git.

Anyway, why isn’t thsi a real film? *le sniffle*