mylittlenestofvipers

brain-food:

everybodyilovedies:

hennyjones:

bitchwhoyoukiddin:

sirdef:

novaorchid:

#can you imagine if we left these 4 guys alone in the top floor of stark tower for like a month #or even just a week #SHIT WOULD GET DONE #we’d probably have interstellar travel in 3 days

i’m not a science expert. i’m not even a science novice. but that’s so interesting that these four would come up with interstellar travel when none of the 4 above are qualified as far as we know? reed richards in the mcu is just listed as a physicist, peter parker could only be linked with engineering + genetics, tony’s engineering, bruce banner is physicist in the 616 but i believe just radiology in the mcu.

know who IS an astrophysicist though?

know who has actually manipulated travel between realms? 

jane foster!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

STOP. ERASING. THE WOMEN.

She didn’t do shit it was already there.

OH MY GOSH THAT’S LIKE SAYING “ISAAC NEWTON DIDN’T DO SHIT GRAVITY WAS ALREADY THERE” “Albert Einstein didn’t do shit time was already relative” “Stephen Hawking didn’t do shit the universe was already there”

  • Those sticks that Thor used to finally defeat Malekith were definitely already there they were products of the earth and Jane and Selvig had nothing to do with their invention.
  • The ether was already THERE on earth I mean not like Jane was the one who found it using devices that she invented or anything and algorithms she made and physics she discovered.
  • The “soul forge” was already there it wasn’t like Jane figured out it was a quantum computer thing whatever she called it I mean it’s not like there could ever be any possible use for figuring out “magic” and making it into “science” THAT has no practical application.
  • The planets were already lining up I mean it’s not like it’s useful for her to have figured out the math and physics behind it and create a predictive engine so her and Selvig could figure out where and when the event would take place and track down the villain to that location.

If the “it’s already there” argument is valid than literally every astrophysicist, quantum physicist, mathematician, biologist, zoologist, &c &c &c are a bunch of loser idiots who definitely never accomplished anything because PFTTTT what good were THEY it was already THERE

reblogging for perfect commentary. 

the-glencoco
the-glencoco:

My sister is friends with a homeless, bank-robber and I’m actually okay with it.This is not the same ol’ story about having compassion towards the homeless. This is a story about redemption.I met Steve Goff roughly six months ago in August. Every morning, when my sister and I would make our daily commute to school, there he was, waiting to greet us, and pretty much everyone, who got off the Powell St. Bart Station to make their way to the steps of San Francisco’s downtown.I’ll admit it. I ignored Steve. A lot. I didn’t even learn his name until a couple of days ago. 6am and riding that damn crowded train infested with diseases because of people who don’t cover their mouth and do god knows what else. The last thing I needed was another San Francisco homeless person shaking a cup in front of my face for money.But this guy didn’t have a cup. All he had was a cigarette in one hand and his hand waving hi to us with the other."Hello, ladies! How are you this morning?" He’d look right at my sister and I. We were raised to be very polite people from our mother and from a lot of experience with cruelty so I’d smirk to acknowledge him and my sister would respond "Good," with her big, signature smile."Thanks for the smile, sweeties, you two have a great day." He’d wave bye to us as we would get on the escalator and carry on with our lives.There was something about the way he said that that made me wonder how many people give him, or anyone else, a smile in a day.
Read More

the-glencoco:

My sister is friends with a homeless, bank-robber and I’m actually okay with it.

This is not the same ol’ story about having compassion towards the homeless. This is a story about redemption.

I met Steve Goff roughly six months ago in August. Every morning, when my sister and I would make our daily commute to school, there he was, waiting to greet us, and pretty much everyone, who got off the Powell St. Bart Station to make their way to the steps of San Francisco’s downtown.

I’ll admit it. I ignored Steve. A lot. I didn’t even learn his name until a couple of days ago. 6am and riding that damn crowded train infested with diseases because of people who don’t cover their mouth and do god knows what else. The last thing I needed was another San Francisco homeless person shaking a cup in front of my face for money.

But this guy didn’t have a cup. All he had was a cigarette in one hand and his hand waving hi to us with the other.

"Hello, ladies! How are you this morning?" He’d look right at my sister and I. We were raised to be very polite people from our mother and from a lot of experience with cruelty so I’d smirk to acknowledge him and my sister would respond "Good," with her big, signature smile.

"Thanks for the smile, sweeties, you two have a great day." He’d wave bye to us as we would get on the escalator and carry on with our lives.

There was something about the way he said that that made me wonder how many people give him, or anyone else, a smile in a day.

Read More

synthetic-synaesthesia-deactiva

8 Ways To Say I Love You

1. Spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night’s clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.

2. Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

3. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that’s what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you’ve always known.

4. Whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you’ve counted the space between her breaths and are certain she’s asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when she shifts toward you in askance. Maybe you were just sleep whispering.

5. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on “in that shirt” or “when you make your award-winning meatballs” or, if you are feeling particularly brave, “when we do this.” Resume dancing and pretend you don’t feel her eyes on you the rest of the night.

6. Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr. Darcy’s. Debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? In her coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. Let her wonder if you meant it.

7. Wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore. Wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing Wabash against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realize you are actually just terrified of living without her. Tell her with your hands shaking.

8. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like “I think” or “I might.” Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”

R. MCKINLEY, DEC. 1, 2012 (via synthetic-synaesthesia)

Okay, this one made me cry a little.  It was all the ways I would say “I Love You” and the one way I dream of doing when I’m laying in bed.

synthetic-synaesthesia-deactiva

Every cell in the body replaces itself every six to seven years, but does the same rule apply to the innermost parts of ourselves? To our organs and veins and blood staining us red. Does the same rule apply to those parts of ourselves that have never been touched? Can you exfoliate the outer layer of the heart? Peel away layers like the skin of an onion, as if each layer is a person we have loved. Is it possible that my brain will grow and neurons will die only to be replaced and in seven years I will have forgotten you?

I want to believe that it is. I want to believe that in six to seven years my body will be one that you have never touched, my hippocampus will be one that has never known you, my heart will be one that has never loved you.

But my heart is not an onion, it cannot be peeled layer by layer until it is merely a rotting vegetable. My heart is a grapefruit, divided into sections for each person I have loved, and you cannot take out one section and expect it to fill itself up again. Instead it will remain empty, a desperate memory of what once was.

And my brain is not a machine constantly replacing itself, or a computer that data can easily be deleted from. My brain is a pomegranate, with seeds spilling out and bursting open, staining the confines of my skull with memories of you.

In six to seven years my body will be fresh and new, but my heart and mind will still be tainted by you.

It Takes Six To Seven Years, M.K. Wilde (via synthetic-synaesthesia)

You have all the things I love.  Food, Science, Romance, and Rhyme…thank you

cracked
omnicat:

cracked:

“There are three times when it’s both acceptable and expected for a man to cry: the birth of his child, the death of a loved one, and any time he thinks about Voyager. … World famous astrophysicist and impossibly perfect person Carl Sagan was commissioned as part of a team to create a message intended for any intelligent life that might find Voyager once it jumped the fence of our solar system. … Carl Sagan worked on the Voyager project with a cosmologist named Annie Druyan, and together they recorded a compressed EEG of her brain and an EKG of her body as she thought really hard about civilization and Earth and humans, hoping that some alien species could decode all the pops and static millions of years from now. But at the end she reserved the last few minutes of the recording to secretly think about Carl. It turns out that as the two of them combed through all of human history, finding the most important pieces to fire into space, they had fallen in love. Annie Druyan then did her best to capture the sensation of being in love the only way she could, and then shot that feeling into the cosmos as the best representation of humanity, even after the Earth is dust.” — Soren Bowie

I’m not crying there’s just space dust in my eyes.
No, no, I’m definitely crying.

I’m so glad I learned about this

omnicat:

cracked:

There are three times when it’s both acceptable and expected for a man to cry: the birth of his child, the death of a loved one, and any time he thinks about Voyager. … World famous astrophysicist and impossibly perfect person Carl Sagan was commissioned as part of a team to create a message intended for any intelligent life that might find Voyager once it jumped the fence of our solar system. … Carl Sagan worked on the Voyager project with a cosmologist named Annie Druyan, and together they recorded a compressed EEG of her brain and an EKG of her body as she thought really hard about civilization and Earth and humans, hoping that some alien species could decode all the pops and static millions of years from now. But at the end she reserved the last few minutes of the recording to secretly think about Carl. It turns out that as the two of them combed through all of human history, finding the most important pieces to fire into space, they had fallen in love. Annie Druyan then did her best to capture the sensation of being in love the only way she could, and then shot that feeling into the cosmos as the best representation of humanity, even after the Earth is dust.” — Soren Bowie

I’m not crying there’s just space dust in my eyes.

No, no, I’m definitely crying.

I’m so glad I learned about this