I’m not afraid to admit that girls with big biceps affect me the same way a laser pointer affects a cat.

If nothing else, at least you're not stuck at an airport, hauling around a pet carrier containing your bored and evil parrot, who has just figured out that the worst possible sound they could possibly be making right now is that of a crying baby.

you will struggle to say the unsayable thing for five years straight. and then it will suddenly become easy on a Wednesday morning

if there’s one thing about me it’s that i love trinkets. give me a rock? i’ll keep it forever. little charm? i’m wearing it every day

well well well if it isn’t the obvious truth which i have been running away from as fast as i possibly can all this time

religious scholars agree that god destroying the tower of babel was the first recorded instance of someone “doing a 9/11”

the disappearance of the dwemer

jobs for people who cant do or handle anything

dating apps are embarrassing crushes in real life are embarrassing the only option left is to elope with a tumblr mutual

the fanfiction inside my head should be considered lost media

*goes to Coachella in a white linen suit like an antebellum lawyer, sweating profusely and dabbing at my forehead with a handkerchief* now, I’m no fancy scientist, but would you folk know where a simple gentleman such as myself could obtain some acid? Now, I’m no big city lawyer, but could any of you fine youths point a country boy such as myself in the direction of some fucking acid?