Gif does not belong to me, but to the lovely Ellen
Hi, I'm Eliza. I'm:
1. into lists on an emotional level,
3. can i sex Joan Watson tho
4. that's it
5. oh yeah sheep
The Spike to my Angelus
The Kaylee to my Inara
The Ann to my Leslie
My Tumblr Wife
Not a spoiler-free blog, but I do try to tag so feel free to yell at me if I don't.
you know what you’re right i don’t want a black widow movie
i want a whole god damn trilogy
a merch line all for her, a set of action figures all for her in different outfits with different toys and accessories
i want her to have her own television spinoff all about her and her adventures
i want her to have her own cool costume for little girls in the disney store
i want her to have everything the male heroes get and then some
"you make my heart beat in iambic pentameter."
no you don’t understand shakespeare literally writes to the beat of your heart
- that’s why shakespearean actors will sometimes pound their chests in time to the words during readings
- that’s why you use fluctuations in the rhythm to track your character’s emotional state - any irregularities in the scansion are like the character’s heart stuttering or jumping or skipping a beat
- that’s why when characters share the rhythm - switching off in the middle of a foot - those characters inevitably have an extraordinarily intimate connection
shakespeare fucking writes viscerally, he is literally in your body, and that, my friend, that is why the best shakespearean actors don’t posture and emote
you have to be fucking alive and passionate and electric - it can’t be intellectual, in the end, it has to be about connection and the sweating, cheering, jeering, bleeding masses you’re performing to, because make no mistake, shakespeare may go to lofty heights, but he only works if you’re just as grounded in the earth. he has to be in your body. he has to be in your body.
holy motherfucking shit i love shakespeare so much, get him in your bones, breathe him in, stomp and rage and pine, dadum dadum dadum dadum dadum, it is literally to the beat of your heart
why do people complain about a woman playing watson on elementary when a terrifying alien plays sherlock in sherlock
I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming.