deardeerling:

in west narnia born and raisedthrough the wardrobe was where i spent most of my days

deardeerling:

in west narnia born and raised
through the wardrobe was where i spent most of my days

tacoposey:

laurynsworld:

tacoposey:

on a scale of one to ten how ashamed do you think tumblr is to have the same logo font as toddlers and tiaras 

image

jesus christ

did u think i was lying

Epigraphs from Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events as tweets

geekstep:

niggercakes:

hungarian:

say “oh my god look at the blood on her pants” in a crowded hall & the girls who turn around are the ones on their period

alright satan lets take it down a notch sweetie

Says tumblr user niggercakes

unconvenience:

Know what’s on the menu? Me-n-u

dancys:

Hawkeye #1

riverlight82:

You can imagine this is the Arthur that Eames sees coming towards him, striding across the patio of some over-hyped restaurant in L.A. Eames had thought he’d been doing a good job of keeping his mind off Arthur, all things considered—had convinced himself, in the six months that have gone by since they last saw each other in Rio, that he’s been embellishing on the attraction, building it up in his head, making it out to be something it wasn’t, surely—
But now here’s Arthur with his loose-hipped stride and his gunmetal suit, and Eames feels it like a ringing in his ears, something electric in his blood. The curve of Arthur’s waist beneath his waistcoat makes his mouth go dry. 
“Eames,” Arthur says, sliding into the chair across from him, adjusting his trousers so he doesn’t ruin their knife-edge crease. The fabric makes a little rustle. It sounds like money.
“Arthur,” Eames says, and lets his tongue flicker over his lips. 
He hasn’t been making it up, after all. He wants to peel back that little tail end of Arthur’s tie with his teeth. 

riverlight82:

You can imagine this is the Arthur that Eames sees coming towards him, striding across the patio of some over-hyped restaurant in L.A. Eames had thought he’d been doing a good job of keeping his mind off Arthur, all things considered—had convinced himself, in the six months that have gone by since they last saw each other in Rio, that he’s been embellishing on the attraction, building it up in his head, making it out to be something it wasn’t, surely—

But now here’s Arthur with his loose-hipped stride and his gunmetal suit, and Eames feels it like a ringing in his ears, something electric in his blood. The curve of Arthur’s waist beneath his waistcoat makes his mouth go dry. 

“Eames,” Arthur says, sliding into the chair across from him, adjusting his trousers so he doesn’t ruin their knife-edge crease. The fabric makes a little rustle. It sounds like money.

“Arthur,” Eames says, and lets his tongue flicker over his lips. 

He hasn’t been making it up, after all. He wants to peel back that little tail end of Arthur’s tie with his teeth. 

hi:

hi:

hi 15 year old me

throwback thursday ok

hi:

hi:

hi 15 year old me

throwback thursday ok