"I’m jealous of anyone that will ever kiss your lips."

– A 10-word story (via emoties)


Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Quicksilver and Elizabeth Olson as the Scarlet Witch on the set of Avengers: Age of Ultron

I really hope that was just Quicksilver running over to be like

Wanda stop calling me a nerd


Fan: [talking about Sebastian’s favorite comic Bucky arc] No love for the gulag where he takes his shirt off and fights a bear? 



the best of hot occupations, side by side.

I’d have no self control around them..

#hng  #asha  


when girls think they are better than other girls because they are tomboys who engage in stereotypically “male” activities it makes me want to actually gouge my own eyes out because they are pretty much reinforcing the patriarchal idea that men are better than women without even realizing it and that is just incredibly sad


#mormor #skinofstripes #scienceofdestruction


#mormor #skinofstripes #scienceofdestruction


I want to put him in my pocket and take him home


If you don’t strategically eat your food so that the last bites to go in your mouth are the tastiest look at your choices

"You punish yourself for being yourself."

– (via mined)




How The Face Changes With Shifting A Light Source

this is one of the coolest things on tumblr

See, I’m not unattractive, the lighting’s just wrong everywhere.


do not fall in love with a poet
we are mean
we are vicious
we will hurt you

do not fall in love with a poet
if you break our hearts
we will show the world how evil you really are
through worn out metaphors and similes
we are loaded guns pointed at your heart
and we will riddle your very existence with bullets

do not fall in love with a poet
if you love us
we will write you out to be as perfect as the stars,
but you are not perfect
you are only perfect to me

do not fall in love with a poet
we are monsters
we use words to express what our voices cannot

do not fall in love with a poet
we destroy what we love
I destroyed what I loved,
still love

do not fall in love with a poet
do not fall in love with a poet
do not fall in love with me


i’m sorry you fell in love with a poet, i should’ve warned you about me


(via unscriptedconfabulationmn)



They say it’s like
honey and strawberries;
like cakes and candies;
like desserts
after every meal.

I wonder;

Is my tongue

For to me,
it’s like a cup of coffee
with the absence of sugar;
like the morning drink
before any meal;
its bittersweet, and wakes
me on each sip.

Like the way you stir
me from my dreamland
only to wake up
to another sweet dream.


Allyn; How a kiss tastes like (via allygned)



My mind moves faster than my fingers can type and my thoughts
form faster than the words can escape my mouth. People ask

me why I can’t drink coffee and I can’t explain to them that I
really have no need for it. I stutter on my thoughts and see

people’s sympathetic looks when they try to understand me.
Some days my day starts at 1 a.m. and other days, my day

doesn’t even start at all because I can’t leave my bed.
People tell me they’re there for me if I need to talk,

but I want them to understand that I don’t really
have much to talk about. It’s just this switch

in my mind that’s constantly flipping between hypomania
and depression without any explanation and some days

it gets stuck in the middle. People think it’s a superpower
because sometimes I can get so much done, but would

you call it a superpower if you knew that sometimes
I drink a whole bottle of wine with my medication just

to go to sleep? That I’m so bad at sleeping some nights that
when I overdose, I’m not trying to die, just trying to

find an easy solution because I’m so sleep deprived.
I’m so moody and I can’t do anything about it but broadcast

hurricane warnings the day you meet me then apologize for the
destruction I’ve caused after I force you out of your home.

Some days my mind constructs an infinite number of possibilities
for the future, but then I get to a point where I realize I have no

energy to make any of it happen. People ask me how I can keep
up with writing a poem a day, but sometimes I write three poems

a day and most days they don’t make sense. My mind is constantly
narrating the story of my life and if I could hook up my brain

to a keyboard, I think I’d be set for life. Everything is a metaphor
and I can’t stop seeing poetry everywhere. My fingertips

get nervous and excited. They are crackling with electricity.
Some days my imagination can’t stop creating things that

don’t make any sense to other people.


– 8:30 a.m. (I’m trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse)