Only I Know How It will End

perlockholmes:

mean-old-levee:

what even was this film about

Shrubberies, curtains, French knights, and swallows.

(via dr3amofparadise)

dewgongo:

haha look over there!! *kisses ur cheek while ur distracted and runs away*

(via becauseyourvoicecumberbatchs)

skreetfighter:

image

"i heard you spilled the tea at Kelsey’s party"

image

"gorl’t i spilled so much oolong at that beach house they had to call the maid in on her day off"

(via ven0moth)

phyxiated:

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”
On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 
Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 
This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

Im crying oh my god

phyxiated:

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”

On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 

Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. 
I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 

This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

Im crying oh my god

(via parasgirl)

maddehhey:

oprahsmom:

toocooltobehipster:

how is he posting this from 4 months in the future

this was taken in February

americans

maddehhey:

oprahsmom:

toocooltobehipster:

how is he posting this from 4 months in the future

this was taken in February

americans

(Source: memewhore, via parasgirl)

crackonthebarriersoftimeandspace:

instigatinglittleshit:

little-missandry:

legion-of-leijon:

Being a nice guy and being a “nice guy”: Know the difference.

There is LITERALLY no difference.

Women don’t owe you shit. We are not sex objects. Too bad if you’re sad about it. You don’t deserve anybody. You are not entitled to another human being.

That’s just how it works.

HOLY SHIT WHAT

IT’S PERFECTLY NATURAL TO BE SAD WHEN SOMEONE YOU’RE INTERESTED IN DOESN’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU

Jesus fucking Christ that’s not entitlement, that’s totally normal disappointment. 

There’s a difference between the first and second pictures and if you can’t see it then holy fuck, I’m sorry about your failing vision. 

It’s pretty simple:

Picture 1 scenario:

"Hi can I have a muffin?"

"no."

"ok ):"

Picture 2:

"Hi can I have a muffin?"

"No."

"WELL FUCK YOU YOU SLUT, I DESERVE THAT MUFFIN, I ASKED NICELY, WHY DOES NO GIRL GIVE ME FUCKING MUFFINS. GUESS WHAT I’M GOING TO TELL EVERYONE HOW SUPERFICIAL YOU ARE BECAUSE YOU WONT GIVE ME THE GODDAMN MUFFIN."

(via its-really-a-spaceship)

Tom Hiddleston + Blessing people

(Source: tomhiddleston-gifs, via parasgirl)

cleowho:


The First Doctor’s modus operandi.
Doctor Who: Planet of Giants

cleowho:

The First Doctor’s modus operandi.

Doctor Who: Planet of Giants

(via doctorwho)