edwardspoonhands:

colchrishadfield:

Clouds swoop in on Crimea, a white bird on the Black Sea.

DAMNIT CHRIS HADFIELD! STOP BEING SO DAMN INSPIRING AND POETIC!

edwardspoonhands:

colchrishadfield:

Clouds swoop in on Crimea, a white bird on the Black Sea.

DAMNIT CHRIS HADFIELD! STOP BEING SO DAMN INSPIRING AND POETIC!


Amelia Williams…
…Hmm.

Amelia Williams…

…Hmm.


If anyone is still confused by Hazel Grace’s some-infinities-are-larger-than-other-infinities (because I was) then here’s a thing I found






edwardspoonhands:

tessaviolet:

fundipp:

no-chickflick-moments:

bl00d-0n-the-walls:

weareallmad-here:

forevercryingbecausemerlin:

tentaclerapper:


methylbenzene:


when i was little and my parents were driving id pretend there was a man/being/thing running alongside the car who had to follow certain rules like “he can only travel by jumping from streetlight to streetlight” or “he can only walk on fences”
i was so surprised to find out that other people did similar things


i wonder what the underlying psychology behind it is
like its a really specific thing to do but almost everyone did it without telling other kids about it because we all thought it was probably weird or unimportant


wait I’m not the only one who did this?

omg I did this all the time

I still do this sometimes o.o

Yeah, still do this.


MINE HAD A SKATEBOARD TOO.

Mine was on roller blades. Also, sometimes my fingers would shoot lazers and I’d slice houses right in half, though I’d try to avoid people, but sometimes I’d mess up AND THEY WOULD DIE!

I just had a giant machete that would slice everything above window level to the horizon.  
And the cat’s eyes/headlamps/street lights/stars/moon had a social hierarchy and met up every night at 1am to discuss important matters and have shmancy parties.  Only because there are so many of them not all of them could attend, and it was up to me to choose which individual lights would go to the meeting to represent other lights of their kind.

edwardspoonhands:

tessaviolet:

fundipp:

no-chickflick-moments:

bl00d-0n-the-walls:

weareallmad-here:

forevercryingbecausemerlin:

tentaclerapper:

methylbenzene:

when i was little and my parents were driving id pretend there was a man/being/thing running alongside the car who had to follow certain rules like “he can only travel by jumping from streetlight to streetlight” or “he can only walk on fences”

i was so surprised to find out that other people did similar things

i wonder what the underlying psychology behind it is

like its a really specific thing to do but almost everyone did it without telling other kids about it because we all thought it was probably weird or unimportant

wait I’m not the only one who did this?

omg I did this all the time

I still do this sometimes o.o

Yeah, still do this.

MINE HAD A SKATEBOARD TOO.

Mine was on roller blades. Also, sometimes my fingers would shoot lazers and I’d slice houses right in half, though I’d try to avoid people, but sometimes I’d mess up AND THEY WOULD DIE!

I just had a giant machete that would slice everything above window level to the horizon.  

And the cat’s eyes/headlamps/street lights/stars/moon had a social hierarchy and met up every night at 1am to discuss important matters and have shmancy parties.  Only because there are so many of them not all of them could attend, and it was up to me to choose which individual lights would go to the meeting to represent other lights of their kind.


fishingboatproceeds:

Seriously. Welcome to Happily Ever After, Rosaline.
You live in a united and prosperous Verona. And you don’t have to hang out with people who get married within hours of meeting.
You won the freaking Shakespeare tragedy lottery.
p.s. I hear that Paris guy ain’t half bad. Oh, he’s dead, too? YEAH MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS THEN.

fishingboatproceeds:

Seriously. Welcome to Happily Ever After, Rosaline.

You live in a united and prosperous Verona. And you don’t have to hang out with people who get married within hours of meeting.

You won the freaking Shakespeare tragedy lottery.

p.s. I hear that Paris guy ain’t half bad. Oh, he’s dead, too? YEAH MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS THEN.


The unfortunate sneeze

The unfortunate sneeze