I. Do. What. I. Want.

little-drops-of-sunshine:

missrenaaa:

• Periods
• Period cramps
• Sore tits
• Mood swings
• Picking out outfits for the day
• Styling hair after showering
• Having a hard time running cause of your tits
• Making sure you don’t get pregnant
• Carrying the baby
• Being called a bitch, whore, hoe for no apparent reason
• Make sure you don’t get raped
• Having pedophiles hit on you
• Oh, and fancying the fuck out of someone that doesn’t know you exist on the earth.

I will forever reblog, honestly.

forever reblog..

(via omg-its-loki)

megasonger:

“Tell us an interesting fact about yourself!”

(via queenabaddon)

(via z0mbie-n0ises)

fuckwooper:

imagine this hurtling towards you at 500mph

(via suicide-sweetheart)

noo00oo00oo00oo:

bilbosbuttbuddy:

RDJ’s sitting-down version of Gangnam Style.

that face.

(via djtauri)

destielcr7:

Guess who’s making him laugh, smile, blush like this?

(via deanisanactualprincess)

hetaliagirl104:

swagito-komaeda:

i did it. i finally defined tumblr dot com

This needs more notes.

(via raggedy-man-with-a-box)

destielsails:

thewalkingassbutt:

twisterit:

For eyesofophelia.

Original gif is not mine, I just added Jensen’s head. 

I HAVE LOST THE ABILITY TO BREATHE OMFG

We’re not gonna make it through this hellatus, are we?

(via bitch-i-might-be-hannibal)

drunkpeeta:

drunkpeeta:

thegirlwhocriedfoxface:

drunkpeeta:

walk up into the club like what up i got a big cock

you are a 16 year old girl

and your point is?????

please stop reblogging this it was a bad idea

(via amazingsyd)

sherlockwilliamholmes:

datatwohearts:

They look like they’re picking Hamish up from the principle’s office.

“You cant call your teachers stupid, Hamish!”
“Why not? It’s the truth! And if I didnt, dad would!”
“He has a point, John.”

The hard wooden bench was all too familiar to Sherlock; except know he was here as one of the parents, hearing John talking to the principal inside the room, and he could feel the warmth of his son, Hamish, trying to not fidget. 

They were like that. One silent and still, the other filling the room with their questions or deductions, their inspecting, and their…erm, atittude. 

Hamish had sassed a teacher, proved them wrong, and had been hastily taken to the office for the thirtieth time this month. And it was only the fiftienth. 

He and John fought over their son’s education. Sherlock believed in home schooling, John in public schooling, as they were constantly out for cases. 

John now won the arguments, but only because Sherlock let him. His point weren’t as valid, or as strong. Yet marriage was give and take, or so ‘they’ said. 

So here they constantly were, at the principal’s office more than either of them had been, combined. 

“So what did you prove wrong, Hamish?”

“That the specific heat of metals with differing isotopes is different. The math Ms. Smith was teaching us had so many errors…..I was trying to help my classmates.”

So like Sherlock….but so like John. This data was wrong, but I fixed it to help my classmates.

Sherlock couldn’t contain his smile at his son’s words, and laughed a little as John came out.

“Sherlock. Timing.”

(Via Auroradefae)

(via amazingdanisnotsocoollike)