<3 <3
AND HOLY SHIT I FOUND ONE. He’s fantastic and so many other similar adjectives man hasn’t yet invented. AND HE’S COMING BACK IN LESS THAN TWELVE HOURS.
I have no idea what our airport reunion will look like yet, but I can’t wait to see. It will probably be slo mo in my head with some sort of indie music playing softly in the background.
(Source: helloeverything)
This guy’s remixes are consistently awesome. This is probably one of my favorites. You should check him out!
Sailor Head + Sailor Nurse
wOW
Have some wonderful nightmares my dear followers
There are very few things that make me do this in this world: 
I want this family to adopt me
Awwwwww! They all cosplayed together! That is adorable!
aaaaAHHHHHH THAT IS SO CUUUUTE
The family that cosplays together stays together.
The poses. The posessss. And the noises that came out of my mouth.
This is too beautiful. I just. I can’t. *explodes*
Feminist Frequency - Tropes vs. Women: #1 The Manic Pixie Dream Girl
I have literally felt a person try to place me into this trope in their life.
Yeah…had a guy tell me I was his “black magic woman”… it didn’t work out.
Whenever I first read about this stereotype, I suddenly understood why every single relationship I’d had had failed. I had always blamed myself, but it wasn’t entirely my fault. I started to examine myself more closely after that. I tried to explain to my friend once that the girl he was pursuing was an MPDG and he was like, “NO SHE’S NOT” and then she proceeded to ruin his life. But it’s not like we set out to do that. We are girls of a certain nature and the intricacies of our personalities get streamlined in these movies. Sam, from Garden State, I feel is less of an MPDG and more just a quirky, girl next door type. She has a family that functions (in it’s way) and she has her own shit. She and Largeman balance each other out. Ramona, as much as I love her, is the epitome of an MPDG.
Much like I used to be. It’s the Sherlock Holmes of women. Unattainable, unavailable, but endlessly fascinating.
John Green wrote a novel worth singing about. Here’s my vocal interpretation of The Fault in Our Stars: “Our Infinity”.
This is seriously beautiful. It captures the book so well. I love how it’s like a lullabye.
This movie (and Cameron) will always be one of my favorites.
(Source: jamespottersexytime)
I feel like Moriarty broke into 221B and stole John’s cardigan just as a little extra “fuck you”.
(Source: levenrr)
When I Grow Up by Andy Fairhurst
(Source: gunslinger)
My followers better all reblog this.
There should be more notes
REBLOG FOLLOWERS.
As long as you’re willing to love, you’re alright in my book <3
i fucking love this.
This is amazing <3
No H8
<3If you don’t reblog this:
(Source: boatsandrenemya)
So I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about depression, chemical imbalances, and why emotion is so taboo even today. I have it so irrevocably beaten into me that feeling is bad and that I am worthless that I still feel like I will never deserve love. It doesn’t matter that the logical part of my brain realizes these thoughts are illogical and says “Stop it!” Because the downward spiral always circles in on itself. It is the Ouroboros and there is no escaping your own gaping mouth.
I’m not sure if I’ve got a chemical imbalance. I know I was “clinically depressed” for the first two years of high school. Suicidal off and on for about eight years now. I’ve been an alcoholic. I’ve smoked both cigarettes and pot. I’ve jumped from unsuccessful relationship to unsuccessful relationship in trying to outrun the bad thoughts, but they always catch up with me.
The only advice I can myself or anyone else is to talk. If only to yourself, but preferably someone else that isn’t a family member or friend. A priest, a trusted teacher, or someone you feel can give you an honest, unbiased opinion. Hell, call one of those stupid hotlines. They’re not always stupid. For a long time, I ignored everything. I coped like a hobbling, burned, and bruised plague victim wandering through life half-dead. I did what I had to do to survive. And now I’m paying the price for that. For cutting off my emotions. For locking away memories tied to hurt and knowledge. For creating a disparity in myself. And that’s something I’m working on forgiving myself for because it’s okay. It’s okay to need help. To need and want love.
Everyone deserves it. Even the horrible people. We all hurt someone at some point. We all hurt ourselves at some point. But we can’t just lie down and take it. Yes, it’s okay to sit in a corner and cry to yourself for a little while, but you can’t make that your home. You can’t let sadness consume you because there are so many more things to life, the world, and its people.
When books and video games lose their fervor or your friends are all out of town, when your parents simply won’t hear your side, or your significant other turns away from you in the night, take a breath. Examine your emotions and understand them; don’t try to push them down or logic your way out of feeling them. Embrace them. Even if that means losing a few people in the process. Even if it means losing everything that seems dear.
I assure you what lingers will be of far more worth than what you’ve lost.
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inspired by the work of SAUL BASS, ART GOODMAN and DAVE NAGATA.
hitchcock typeface by MATT TERICH. tumblr theme by MATTHEW BUCHANAN.
