My own belief is that one regards oneself, if one is a serious writer, as an instrument for experiencing. Life – all of it – flows through this instrument and is distilled through it into works of art. How one lives as a private person is intimately bound into the work. At some point I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with personal truth. If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of feeling, guilt, joy, the slow freeing of the self to its full capacity for action and creation, both as human being and as artist, we have to know all we can about each other, and we have to be willing to go naked.
May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude (1973)
Pacific Rim: Well written and developed female character fights aliens with her golden retriever
Winter Soldier: well written and developed female character fights the government with her golden retriever and bird
Mad Max: Several well written and developed female characters fight everything with their confused golden retriever
OMG. So I was walking back to my apartment and I heard some footsteps and I turned around and there was this guy running straight for me. I started panicking thinking he wanted to wear my skin as a dress. He gets closer and sees me, looking startled. And then he goes, “OMG I DIDN’T SEE YOU I’M SO SORRY. I WAS RUNNING BECAUSE I’M SCARED OF THE DARK.”
Imagine your OTP
Phil Coulson has not survived for this long by having poor field instincts.
As soon as he hears pounding footsteps, he is immediately reaching for the small knife in his jacket pocket, curling his other hand into a fist. He turns his head to the side, sees a blocky figure getting closer in the shadowed light of the street lamps. Not HYDRA, not if he’s alone – a merc, maybe?
The guy keeps running closer and Phil gives up the pretense of walking. He plants his feet on the sidewalk and turns around.
He only sees a blur of purple and hears mumbled curses before suddenly the man squeals and whole-body flinches.
“Holy shit, dude, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”
Phil keeps one hand on his knife. “Says the man running full speed at me in the middle of a deserted street at 2am.”
The guy stops clutching his chest and starts palming the back of his neck instead. “Uh, yeah. Funny story. I wasn’t running at you.”
“Who were you running at?”
“What? No, I wasn’t running at anyone.”
Phil squints. “Who were you running from, then?”
The street lamps really are shitty around here, but Phil swears he sees a blush creeping up the man’s cheeks. “I was running from the dark.”
Phil blinks. “Sorry?”
The guy huffs. “I’m scared of the dark, okay? I was trying to get home really fast.”
“You were trying to run away from the dark?”
“Shit can’t get me if I’m running, dude.”
“Come on then,” Phil says, resigned to the fact this isn’t even in the top 10 weirdest things to happen to him in Brooklyn. “I’ll walk you home. Protect you from the dark.”
The man steps forward, directly under the light, and Phil swallows. He’s kind of gorgeous, and Phil is in yesterday’s suit looking tired as hell, and there’s no way this guy is going to–
“My hero,” he hears, a second before a large, warm hand wraps around his forearm.
They don’t get more than six feet down the sidewalk before the guy tilts his body toward Phil. “You know, it’d be good to have your phone number. Just in case I ever get caught out in the dark again.”
Phil rolls his lips together to stop his smile. “Just in case.”
now i’m watching jurassic park, it’s on usa
this shit still looks fucking amazing
but okay, like…the park is weeks if not months from opening
they’re not even ready for a soft open
the main lobby is full of scaffolding and plastic
why the fuck is the gift shop fully stocked
there should be boxes everywhere
that shit is the last to get done
and who was that giant table of desserts for
did they each have two cheesecakes each
these are the things i notice when i’ve seen a movie eighteen times
With casting Rupert it was like if Sherlock wasn’t around it would sort of be his show. He’s the best detective Scotland Yard’s got – that’s what Sherlock says about him in the original stories, so to get away from this sort of more ratty faced and gnarky Lestrade it was about trying to do something different with it.
Mark Gatiss. Source: Sherlocked//Sherlockology
(via abumblebeeat221b)
And aren’t we glad they did! 🙂