itsmemacleod:

jerkpattillo:

ungratefullittleshit:

i’m feeling sick

no no no no

itsmemacleod:

jerkpattillo:

ungratefullittleshit:

i’m feeling sick

no no no no

jaclcfrost:

i hope that, wherever my hair ties go, they’re happy. that’s all that matters

iguanamouth:

iguanamouth:

remember that first live action scooby doo movie. where the antagonist was literally scrappy doo and he was stealing peoples souls, like actually really stealing and absorbing souls, and was planning on taking scoobys soul to rule the world with an army of demons and get revenge on the gang after they abandoned him because he kept peeing in the car, and near the end he turned into this huge dog monster

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a real movie

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shit. shit

I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while we eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.

nue:

life hack: can’t do homework if you don’t have a home. burn it down you piece of shit

harblkun:

bowtais-are-cool:

bowtais-are-cool:

Hello! My baby!

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Hello! My honey!

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Hello! My ragtime gOOD LORD HOLY FUCKING SHIT

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Oh my god

this is the most accurate representation of working in 3D I have ever seen

h0odrich:

iphone420:

¿

i speak spanish let me translate: ?

bombing:

baby we can’t roleplay if you can’t accept the fact that a dark mage can’t use healing spells. in what bullshit universe would that even happen

beksboys:

IT SUDDENLY GOT REALLY DARK IN HERE LIKE as if someone stood in front of our brightest lamp and it freaked me out so bad cause i thought “GHOSTS??? DEMONS?????” and i turned around and all i saw was

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dreamalittlebiggerdahling:

heatherleighann:

If you didn’t fall in love with Andrew Garfield in this scene you’re lying.

If you didn’t fall in love with Emma Stone in this scene you’re lying.