Still the most adorable thing.
Still the most adorable thing.
I love how the Ood is like ‘Dammit translator ball!’ and just hits it
This is why I really, really love the Ood.
when i was little i learned what schizophrenia was from TV and for a while i was really afraid because i thought i had it since i always heard my own voice in my head so finally i told a doctor and he informed me that what i was experiencing was called thinking.
I’m a good person but a shitty writer. You’re a shitty person but a good writer. We’d make a good team. I don’t want to ask you any favors, but if you have time—and from what I saw, you have plenty—I was wondering if you could write a eulogy for Hazel. I’ve got notes and everything, but if you could just make it into a coherent whole or whatever? Or even just tell me what I should say differently.
Here’s the thing about Hazel: Almost everyone is obsessed with leaving a mark upon the world. Bequeathing a legacy. Outlasting death. We all want to be remembered. I do, too. That’s what bothers me most, is being another unremembered casualty in the ancient and inglorious war against disease.
I want to leave a mark.
But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you think, “They’ll remember me now,” but (a) they don’t remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.
(Okay, maybe I’m not such a shitty writer. But I can’t pull my ideas together, Van Houten. My thoughts are stars I can’t fathom into constellations.)
“No good to somebody else unless you’re good with being with just you.”
– Pushing Daisies, 2x04 Frescorts
my sweet dwarf prince
he could definitely be an elf with that hair
Les Misérables - TV Spot: “Medley” (x)
German and British troops fraternizing in No Man’s Land, Christmas 1914. (Source.)
When hostilities resumed along the Western front, a lot of the time they did so unwillingly. There were numerous cases of soldiers warning the opposite side with whom they had fraternized, or plain insubordination. The sergeant of the 107th Saxon corps recalled to a female acquaintance a near mutiny in his regiment when the orders to resume shooting arrived:
“The difficulty began on the 26th, when the order to fire was given, for the men struck. Herr Lange says that in the accumulated years [of his service] he had never heard such language as the officers indulged in, while they stormed up and down, and got, as the only result, the answer, ‘We can’t - they are good fellows, and we can’t.’ Finally the officers turned on the men with, ‘Fire, or we do - and not at the enemy!’ Not a shot had come from the other side, but at last they fired, and an answering fire came back, but not a man fell. ‘We spent that day and the next,’ said Herr Lange, ‘wasting ammunition in trying to shoot the stars out of the sky.’” (Stanley Weintraub, Silent Night: The Story of the World War I Christmas Truce.)
Mental illnesses don’t take a break for the holidays. Here’s to all those suffering during the “most wonderful time of the year”.