Sleep tonight. And may your dreams be realized.

Source: observando

tssssf:

yourlifesnolongerempty:

the-fantastic-doctor-nine:

GUyS I AM DYING SOMeONE SEND HELP

I HAVE NEVER HIT THE REBLOG BUTTON SO FAST IN MY LIFE

IM PISSING MYSELF

(via une-folieadeux)

elige:

volcanize:

This Explains Everything

I’m really proud of this one guys

beautiful

This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. 

(via littledisneyjoy)

cancerously:

soldier-out-of-time:

captainamericasbiggestfan:

soldier-out-of-time:

captainamericasbiggestfan:

soldier-out-of-time:

captainamericasbiggestfan:

soldier-out-of-time:

to-see-floating-lanterns-gleam:

soldier-out-of-time:

ask-the-mockingbird:

AYE AYE CAPTAIN!

AYE AYE CAPTAIN!

CAP-TAIN ROG-ERS!

CAP-TAIN ROG-ERS!

CAP-TAIN ROG-ERS!

THIS IS THE BEST POST ON THE INTERNET EVERYONE ELSE GO THE FUCK HOME

(via dredshirtroberts)

waaaahlbodayz:

short-bread:

[x]

Stephen fry. Stop it.

You are clearly being too smart. You are not of this Earth.

(via dredshirtroberts)

pixiepaperdollcartoon:

evangotlib:

mediaite:

Imagine A World Without Hate

This got to me a bit.

Wow.

(via archangejolras)

humansofnewyork:

“I teach music.”

“Tell me something about music that also applies to life.”

“It’s good to vary your tempo.”

Source: observando

(via prettygirlfromvirginia)

poke-problems:

Here is a really beautiful acapella of the lavender town theme with words by SuriOokami on youtube.

(via prettygirlfromvirginia)

mercurymoans:

I am dying for this. 

(via prettygirlfromvirginia)

ashlandrenee:

therothwoman:

itscarororo:

my favorite part about working with the birds of prey at the museum I interned at was when the vet would come in and wrap them up in to burritos to weigh them and clip their talons

birdrritos

That eagle looks 1776% done.

1776%

(via dredshirtroberts)

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #389 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for tired eyes:

On the occasion of my death, how will I be remembered?
Will it be sobs and soaked handkerchiefs or will it be laughter
and heads shaking in collective acknowledgment
to the silly and completely ridiculous stories that will be told?
On the occasion of my death, how will I meet the one that will
usher me through the crossroads of this life and the next?
Will it be with a bang, with a silent whimper, or with my forehead
to the clouds a grin upon my fading mouth and my hand reaching
out first to take her hand before she asks for mine?
Will it be painful, will it hurt, will I scream for it to be over
or will I, pushing through frozen bits of frozen moments,
understand the reason for the pain and the explanation behind
the hurt and instead turn and bask in it, the final sensation
this skin and these bones will ever feel this beautiful lap
through a breathtaking life.
On the occasion of my death, what will be the weather on the instant
and dizzying transition into the occasion of my rebirth?
Will I enter through a storm or through the gentle breeze of
a sunny day? Will the rain drops be my baptism and will my first
scream be only the echo of my last scream in the flesh I used to
wear, and wear proudly?
On the occasion of my death, will the explosion be felt across the
planet or will it be the single falling star spied by a single
lonely soul sitting on the roof of some creaking house in the
cool early Autumn night? Will they feel me flicker and fade
and burst back into glowing life or will I just fall into line
as the next star in a crowd of many that will make up some
constellation?
Will sailors guide themselves by me, will two young souls
freshly in love wish upon me when I come out while the blue
still hangs in the sky and will I feel those wishes?
On the occasion of my death, what will become of all that was?
What will become of all I was to be
on the occasion of my death?

-Tyler Knott Gregson-