doctorwho:

Very hard to play

but nice to dance to

I thought it was gonna say “Re-Tardis”, you know like the slowing down of tempo in music.

(Source: i-am-talking)

quirkilicious:

talikira:

pirorin:

thewaywardfae:

tarotblades:

celestialkisses:

tonednotskinny:

religiousragings:

clockworkconductor:

wornoutfaces:

Yeah I love Courage Wolf!

Ok I’m done,

I promise.

Must.  Reblog…

Love these!!!

The first one. Omg. HAHAHAHA. <3 

Fuck yes to all of these, especially the second to last one.

Oh god the first one xD

oh man it’s been a while

I FEEL MOTIVATED ALREADY.

jk Im gonna go play Portal 2 instead. umu;;

Basically how I feel about people who whine about anything.

I’m testing this. Bear with me.

Yes, I love her; no, I will not give you an in.

If you’re a writer wanting to query my boo-full literary agent friend, you should do so by all means, just make sure you’re ready for it, first. Because my MISH!, she’s the best, so she deserves your best.

Psst. I happen to know she’s repping YA and MG pretty exclusively, but she loves a good ghost story, and appreciates old stories told with innovative new twists.

landsbeyond:

Molly Ringwald, you’re my hero.

(Source: amyohconnor, via michellewittebooks)

Oh look, another thing I cannot love enough.

(Source: onierology, via randomhouse)

chloeeesays:

daniellemyers:

CHLOE JUST DID THIS TO ME BECAUSE SHE IS THE BEST/WORST PERSON

The things I do for my friends xD

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS!

(Source: theflamesoflondon, via kristinhalbrook)

river-song-bamf:

hermithobbit:

It might be a crime not to reblog this.

REBLOG. REBLOG. REBLOG!!

(Source: ironm0on, via viria)

Surprise, Surprise

I totally did not expect to be sorted into Hufflepuff House.

I thought Ravenclaw (I’m often a snotty know-it-all), or maybe Slytherin (hi, sneaky much? Yes. Yes, I am).

Well, then.

SnidgetWizard13092

(I think. I’m always a little unsure of the ‘d’ in Snidget)

Trinity A Short Story

by ~AmethystGreye

When I open my eyes, I’m staring out Whit’s window. It’s really cold out there. The road’s been cleared, but even the dirt and clay look frozen, still and absent of any warmth.
Whitten really wanted to go out, but it looks like he’s grounded. Joan and her Dad are doing a sax duet with the marching band at half-time, and Whit was practically straining out of his skin to go with them. Whit loves Joan like you could not believe.
I don’t being in Whit’s room. It’s too barren, with naked light bulbs hanging from chains, a skinny mattress draped with one sheet, one blanket. It’s not that Whit’s a slob or a delinquent, he’s just greedy with his ti

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