tombakeristhebestdoctor:

oddwriter:

godblessameric:

ecclesmith:

thebadwolfbox:

thedoctor-hasmysoul:

jedipeter:

cumberspawnn:

valeria2067:

arousingdisscusionabouttruth:

theres a penis joke somewhere in this

No, the Sonic doesn’t do wood.

oh my gOD

Honestly the first thing I thought when I saw this was that it was a joke about size. Then I realized that 11 knows EXACTLY what 10 has down there and 10 is left wondering what he ends up with in the future. That’s why 11 looks so cocky and 10 looks a bit unsure. 

so you’re saying 11 has a bigger dick than 10? 

What is this fandom

The Dicktor Who fandom

there it is

and david is called david ten-inch by billie piper 

(Source: eclecticmuses, via sonic-your-mom)

maximus-gluteus:

no-this-is-jarod:

they got mad

he…. has every right to tho. the song “wake me up when september ends” was about billie joe coping with the loss of his father. so when a bunch of shit-heads decide to be cute and constantly tweet him to “wake up” one the first of october its kinda like a slap in the face, like they’re completely disrespecting the emotions put behind the song. but i do know that there are only two types of people who do this. those who don’t know, and those who don’t care.

maximus-gluteus:

no-this-is-jarod:

they got mad

he…. has every right to tho. the song “wake me up when september ends” was about billie joe coping with the loss of his father. so when a bunch of shit-heads decide to be cute and constantly tweet him to “wake up” one the first of october its kinda like a slap in the face, like they’re completely disrespecting the emotions put behind the song. but i do know that there are only two types of people who do this. those who don’t know, and those who don’t care.

(via sonic-your-mom)

October Babies

Me: *flops down beside you* *invades your personal space* *smiles* *stares at you for uncomfortable amount of time* *still smiling*

Me: ... It's my birthday month.

the-hairy-heterophobe:

ablogforemily:

shamelesslyunladylike:

the-hairy-heterophobe:

if anybody asks me why i hate men, i’m just gonna redirect them to this post.

it’s pretty fucking obvious that men only want to invest in breast cancer research to further degrade, objectify, and jerk off to body parts they already feel 100% entitled to. that’s what is at stake for them. 

what about the women whose “tatas” weren’t saved? how must they feel being surrounded by awareness ads that focus more on keeping women’s sexy-sexy-titties-to-continue-titillating-the-males than saving real life human beings and helping survivors? 

If anyone’s wondering, those posts came from here. It’s a forum for breast cancer support. Give it a read, and you’ll see how many women are outright abandoned by their husbands, sometimes after being married for decades, because their “tatas” couldn’t be saved.

This culture of “save the tatas” even goes as far as the doctor’s offices themselves. Most doctors request that the husband be present during surgical consultations, as though he has an equal say in the patient-professional discussion.

If the woman is single, as was my case, doctors have actually recommended postponing surgery until she finds a relationship, because “it could be nearly impossible to find someone who accepts it [your unnatural tatas] in years to come”. 

I’m 15 months post-mastectomy, and the date I had this past week was the first time since then that a guy hadn’t reacted negatively to my scars. The relief was so overwhelming that I was fighting back tears. When I told him —essentially warning him that my body wasn’t what he must be expecting — I felt so guilty; it seemed to have the same weight and shame as telling someone I had some sort of an incurable STI or a felony record.

I shouldn’t have felt that way. I should not be ashamed of choosing to live. 

Thank you for your important commentary! I hope you find someone who can love you for who you are and admire your strength as a survivor.

(via mkhunterz)

manasaysay:

rabbrakha:

Parineeti Chopra responds to a male reporter who claims to know nothing about periods (menstrual cycle). [X]

SO IMPORTANT.

I started my period when I was 10 years old. But we didn’t tell my grandma for three years because she subscribed to the “old traditions”, where a woman on her period could not enter the house, not even to bathe. Where she had to sit outside in front of the house (where the whole village could be witness to her shame and isolation) for the entire duration.

My friend started her period unexpectedly while we were at our local temple (in America) for dance class. Asking around if any of the parents had pads (all of them apologized and acted like adults about it), I thought surely the front office has a first aid kit. Don’t they have pads? When we asked, not only did they not have any, when one of the women gave one from her purse, the head secretary told us “There are men who need to use the first-aid kit, ya? So we don’t keep period things there.” Not even ibuprofen (which has so many more uses than period pain).

There are girls in India and Nepal (and other places, but I just read an in-depth piece about the situations in Nepal) who have to go to the “period hut” when their period comes and not leave until its over. They can’t wash and dry their cloth pads in the daylight, so they do it at night when the pads won’t dry properly before their next use, making them vulnerable to infection.

It is incredibly important, especially in India, to break the taboo surrounding periods. Break the secrecy around an event that happens to almost every woman, every month for literally half of her lifetime. Break the hiding, break the cover-up, break the SHAME.

Just break EVERYTHING. So little girls can go to school every day of every month without feeling ashamed. So women can work every day of every month to provide for their families without being glared at. So single fathers can confidently take care of their daughters’ health. So that women can talk about how terrible their period is or isn’t and give each other advice on how to deal with it without looking around to make sure men aren’t listening.
So that Whisper doesn’t have to be called Whisper, it can be called SHOUT. It can be called PROUD. So that we don’t NEED to fucking WHISPER about our bodies and our health.

(Source: baawri, via gabeebert)

Normal Person: *watches musical*

Normal person: That was good. I enjoyed it.

Me: *watches musical*

Me: *buys cast album*

Me: *buys T shirt*

Me: *buys poster*

Me: *keeps tickets forever*

Me: *Looks up bootleg copies of said musical on YouTube*

Me: *Learns all words to said musical*

Me: *Act's out said musical*

Me: *Falls in love with actors in said musical*

Me: That was good. I enjoyed it.