Sonic Screwdriver Doctor Who no longer untitled
Cat-Eyed psychopath
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revenge-of-the-sock-puppets:

transyoite:

phantomdoodler:

yourpersonalcheerleader:

laughingsquid:

After Battling Cancer, 11-Year Old Girl Invented a ‘Chemo Backpack’ to Replace Bulky IV Poles

Smart!!

She’s currently raising funds to begin production

Her name is Kylie Simonds. please don’t forget her name.

Kylie Simonds you are a badass of the highest order and I salute you. I would also like an IV pack for my infusions? You rock, kid.

revenge-of-the-sock-puppets:

transyoite:

phantomdoodler:

yourpersonalcheerleader:

laughingsquid:

After Battling Cancer, 11-Year Old Girl Invented a ‘Chemo Backpack’ to Replace Bulky IV Poles

Smart!!

She’s currently raising funds to begin production

Her name is Kylie Simonds. please don’t forget her name.

Kylie Simonds you are a badass of the highest order and I salute you. I would also like an IV pack for my infusions? You rock, kid.

56 seconds ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 68,534 notes

ispankmyturtle:

why is it that everyone can be an asshole towards me and that’s perfectly fine but the minute i have had enough and act like an asshole its all of a sudden not okay

1 minute ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 723,539 notes
so-personal:

everything personal

so-personal:

everything personal

1 minute ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 308,582 notes
1 minute ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 60,611 notes
shiawaseneiro2:

ウタさん by 翔太郎

shiawaseneiro2:

ウタさん by 翔太郎

1 minute ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 157 notes
boazpriestly:

"This is the last one, sir." James set the girl down on at my feet and then stands up straight with his hands behind his back. 
"Stop doing that," I tell him. "We’re not at war anymore. We’re just clearing a warehouse." He doesn’t change his stance. I shake my head and click my tongue. "I wish i could fucking reprogram you," I hiss, wishing my words would hurt him somehow. 
I kneel down and turn the girl over until I can see her back more clearly. The tattoos look like birthmarks, having grown on her skin as she aged. I want to say she’s about fifteen, maybe sixteen, but with all the renewal shit on the market, there’s no way to tell. Her only saving grace is that she’s organic; no one’s messed with her DNA yet. 
"You sure she’s the last one?" I look up at James as he nods. He used to be like her, all thin and fragile. He was never organic though, when I got him he’d been tested on and mixed with machines and animals. He’ll never get the feeling back in his left hand like I had hoped he would. But he’s a good kid, and I trust him to tell me the truth, "Pick her up and let’s head out, yeah?" 
James does what I tell him to, lifting her with ease even though he’s probably only a year or two older than her. She starts coughing and gasping the second she’s in his arms. Her eyes open wide; she looks around wildly like a feral animal in a cage.
"Shit," I swear, reaching out to touch her throat where he pulse is. She pulls away from my hand. "She wasn’t supposed to wake up, yet. Are you sure she’s the only one left?" 
I look around the room we’re in, my heart thumping hard. There has to be someone else hidden; they only ever wake up like that when they’re about to be separated. 
"Stay here," I order. 
"Yes, sir." 
I hobble past James and the girl, toward a pile of boxes. The girl begins thrashing around, trying her damndest to get out of James’ hold. She reaches out toward the opposite side of the room, whining loudly like a cat wanting its missing kitten. 
"Fuck. There’s a kid in here." 
I limp as fast as I can to where the girl is reaching out. It’s just an open area except for a metal crate sitting on top of a metal grate on the floor. I touch the crate and the girl shakes her head. I look down at my feet and inhale deeply. Two pairs of eyes stare up at me from the darkness, 
"James get the fuck over here and move this!" 
He’s next to me in seconds, the girl still in his arms, and shoves the crate to the side like it weighs nothing. “Rip up the grate,” I demand. The children and the girl all flinch at the sound of the metal being torn from the floor. Then James reaches down, without me telling him to and pulls the kids — twins — out of their hole. He lets the girl go and she wraps her arms around the boys immediately. 
I run a hand through my hair and stare at the tattoos on the boys’ backs. “Three organics in the same place?” I’ve been working this unit for twenty-three years and I had never encountered such a thing. Humans just didn’t reproduce the way they used to, the way the history books teach it. It’s barbaric and unsafe. But these kids were obviously her, if the stretchmarks on her belly were any kind of indicator. 
I looked around the room again, making sure James and I were the only ones of our unit who knew about this. “We need to get them somewhere safe,” I said. “Not our house either.” 
"The cabin?" 
"For now. Until we find something better?" 
James nodded and kneeled down next to the woman. “We need to leave now,” he said softly. “We need to get you to a home. Do you understand?” 
"Y-yes," she stammered. "P-p-please help us?" 
"Yes," James said. The woman smiled briefly and then turned back to her boys. "Is the transporter ready, sir?" 
"Two seconds." 
"Sir, there are two unit officers coming. They will be here in less than that." 
"Fuck. Fuck!" I stepped toward them and and twisted the dial on my wrist. "Let’s see how far, half a charge will get us, then." I slapped the dial down and let the five of us be enveloped in a wash of blue and green. 

boazpriestly:

"This is the last one, sir." James set the girl down on at my feet and then stands up straight with his hands behind his back. 

"Stop doing that," I tell him. "We’re not at war anymore. We’re just clearing a warehouse." He doesn’t change his stance. I shake my head and click my tongue. "I wish i could fucking reprogram you," I hiss, wishing my words would hurt him somehow. 

I kneel down and turn the girl over until I can see her back more clearly. The tattoos look like birthmarks, having grown on her skin as she aged. I want to say she’s about fifteen, maybe sixteen, but with all the renewal shit on the market, there’s no way to tell. Her only saving grace is that she’s organic; no one’s messed with her DNA yet. 

"You sure she’s the last one?" I look up at James as he nods. He used to be like her, all thin and fragile. He was never organic though, when I got him he’d been tested on and mixed with machines and animals. He’ll never get the feeling back in his left hand like I had hoped he would. But he’s a good kid, and I trust him to tell me the truth, "Pick her up and let’s head out, yeah?" 

James does what I tell him to, lifting her with ease even though he’s probably only a year or two older than her. She starts coughing and gasping the second she’s in his arms. Her eyes open wide; she looks around wildly like a feral animal in a cage.

"Shit," I swear, reaching out to touch her throat where he pulse is. She pulls away from my hand. "She wasn’t supposed to wake up, yet. Are you sure she’s the only one left?" 

I look around the room we’re in, my heart thumping hard. There has to be someone else hidden; they only ever wake up like that when they’re about to be separated. 

"Stay here," I order. 

"Yes, sir." 

I hobble past James and the girl, toward a pile of boxes. The girl begins thrashing around, trying her damndest to get out of James’ hold. She reaches out toward the opposite side of the room, whining loudly like a cat wanting its missing kitten. 

"Fuck. There’s a kid in here." 

I limp as fast as I can to where the girl is reaching out. It’s just an open area except for a metal crate sitting on top of a metal grate on the floor. I touch the crate and the girl shakes her head. I look down at my feet and inhale deeply. Two pairs of eyes stare up at me from the darkness, 

"James get the fuck over here and move this!" 

He’s next to me in seconds, the girl still in his arms, and shoves the crate to the side like it weighs nothing. “Rip up the grate,” I demand. The children and the girl all flinch at the sound of the metal being torn from the floor. Then James reaches down, without me telling him to and pulls the kids — twins — out of their hole. He lets the girl go and she wraps her arms around the boys immediately. 

I run a hand through my hair and stare at the tattoos on the boys’ backs. “Three organics in the same place?” I’ve been working this unit for twenty-three years and I had never encountered such a thing. Humans just didn’t reproduce the way they used to, the way the history books teach it. It’s barbaric and unsafe. But these kids were obviously her, if the stretchmarks on her belly were any kind of indicator. 

I looked around the room again, making sure James and I were the only ones of our unit who knew about this. “We need to get them somewhere safe,” I said. “Not our house either.” 

"The cabin?" 

"For now. Until we find something better?" 

James nodded and kneeled down next to the woman. “We need to leave now,” he said softly. “We need to get you to a home. Do you understand?” 

"Y-yes," she stammered. "P-p-please help us?" 

"Yes," James said. The woman smiled briefly and then turned back to her boys. "Is the transporter ready, sir?" 

"Two seconds." 

"Sir, there are two unit officers coming. They will be here in less than that." 

"Fuck. Fuck!" I stepped toward them and and twisted the dial on my wrist. "Let’s see how far, half a charge will get us, then." I slapped the dial down and let the five of us be enveloped in a wash of blue and green. 

2 minutes ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 24 notes
5 minutes ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 1,170 notes
5 minutes ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 11 notes
punklock:

Greaserlock

punklock:

Greaserlock

6 minutes ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 4,457 notes
scavenging-otter:

how can you not like bowser, like, really. bowser is great

scavenging-otter:

how can you not like bowser, like, really. bowser is great

7 minutes ago on August 31st, 2014 | J | 2,979 notes