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queenofheartsonthesleeve:

shield-agent-merrick:

carry-on-my-vulcan-sorcerer:

superblys:

beeftony:

So I liked this version of Flash Thompson a lot better than the one in the 2002 Spider-Man because he had humanizing moments like this one instead of being a two-dimensional jock stereotype.

#wow this is back

at the end flash is almost holding his hands, not in a slash way, but in a i get it man, i understand kind oh way and it always makes my insides kinda shimmy

Also, IIRC, every incarnation of Flash in the comics was physically abused by his father. This is a big part of why Flash was a bully.

His going “Feels better?” is because Flash of all people knows that lashing out at someone else can make your own pain seem less bad for a while. 

I appreciate this . This character portrayal does so much more than previously .

(Source: kelmeckis)

Cakes have gotten a bad rap. People equate virtue with turning down dessert. There is always one person at the table who holds up her hand when I serve the cake. No, really, I couldn’t she says, and then gives her flat stomach a conspiratorial little pat. Everyone who is pressing a fork into that first tender layer looks at the person who declined the plate, and they all think, That person is better than I am. That person has discipline. But that isn’t a person with discipline; that is a person who has completely lost touch with joy. A slice of cake never made anybody fat. You don’t eat the whole cake. You don’t eat a cake every day of your life. You take the cake when it is offered because the cake is delicious. You have a slice of cake and what it reminds you of is someplace that’s safe, uncomplicated, without stress. A cake is a party, a birthday, a wedding. A cake is what’s served on the happiest days of your life. This is a story of how my life was saved by cake, so, of course, if sides are to be taken, I will always take the side of cake.
Jeanne Ray (via fyoured)

(Source: the-healing-nest)

thelunartype:

Miroslav Tichy

Tichy was an eccentric. He was held prisoner for almost a decade in Soviet labor camps just for that—being an eccentric, falsely accused of dissidence.

Upon his release in the early 70s he wandered his small town in rags pursuing his voyeuristic obsession with the female form by photographing women unawares in the streets, shops and parks, through windows and fences, with cameras he fashioned out of tin cans, children’s eyeglass lenses and other junk he’d pick up while wandering. 

(Source: likeafieldmouse)

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