misshotaru: Art by:
SawaiiDoll
zoyalinas: harry potter a-z — queenie goldstein
aw, don’t worry, honey. most guys think what you was thinking, first time they see me.
turing-tested: fun personality quiz here :) don’t take it if you’re paranoid but you agree with the results let me know!
phemiec: phemiec: Identity is a prison! Let yourself respond authentically to each moment as it arrives, without being bound to the narrative of who you think you are! The self is a construct! The truth of your existence is ever changing and infinite as the universe is ever changing and infinite! Abandon the stories of your past selves and be present and alive in this very moment! IDENTITY IS DEAD! THE SELF IS DEAD! YOU ARE ALIVE!
update: i just shaved my eyebrows off
forsciencejohn: “how’s the semester going?”
berniesrevolution: The United States is falling way, way behind on funding public transit. And it’s hurting us.                
violentwavesofemotion: “I don’t like the way you treat me at all. You have totally wrecked me with your absent-minded, dumb promises to come see me, and with your equally fog-bound, last minute announcements that your life has become so complicated that you cannot come.”
— Kurt Vonnegut, from a letter to Nanny Vonnegut written c. March 1974
nevver: Top Posters of 2018
questions-within-questions: xenothral: yo-its-matt: muffinsandmatriarchy: salparadisewasright: 
The context behind this image is even fucking funnier imo. Dolphins will bonk this kind of puffer fish because when it puffs up it also release a toxin that’s normally deadly to other fish but just gives dolphins a mild high
That dolphin’s ripping a huge bonk
420 bonk it
robhodgson: Rob Hodgson, Pebbles
msbelieever: “We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.
But tonight let us not become tragedies.
We are not funeral homes
with propane tanks in our windows
lookin’ like cemeteries.
Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.
Let go.
Tonight, poets, turn your ridiculous wrists so far backwards
the razor blades in your pencil tips
can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.
Step into this
with your airplane parts
move forward
and repeat after me with your heart:
I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.
Make love to me
like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
Go slow.
I’m new to this,
but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop
without jumping.
I have realized that the moon
did not have to be full for us to love it,
that we are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it,
that if my heart
really broke
every time I fell from love
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now.
But hearts don’t break, y’all,
they bruise and get better.
We were never tragedies.
We were emergencies.
You call 9 – 1 – 1.
Tell them I’m havin’ a fantastic time.”
— Buddy Wakefield
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