Reblog if you are in at least one of those fandoms…

sophienyan:

likeajunglecat:

iprayforangels:

sherlock-winchester-who-221b:

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If you didn’t reblog this you don’t belong here. Unless your a porn blog. You can still say.

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You’re forgetting about usimage

midifoul:

When we played this song at our show these dudes started bowing down and worshipping me for my bassline and I think that means you might wanna listen to it.

This is my band “Bonanza in my Panzer” and we love you.

shavingryansprivates:

i’M SCREAMING BECAUSE OF HOW CUTE THIS IS

(via sophienyan)

religiousdad:

bluemoon-martini:

stardustmote:

Pen caps that don’t fit on both ends of the pen.

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WHAT KIND OF MOTH IS THAT 

an angry one

(via sophienyan)

xlthuathopec:

lycanheiress:

The saga continues.

I’m sorry Weiss.

(via sophienyan)

refinedmind:

Just before nightfall I decided to take a walk outside. The sky was low, enveloping any object in its reach. It formed a dull, purplish haze - like nothing I’d seen before. The streets were empty. Not a single soul was out. It was oddly peaceful - imagining I was the only one left.

(via therealandrewcameron)

professor-maple-art:

blinkyxx:

mahjongnookulus:

These were confirmed by Nintendo today.

OH MY GOD

oh lordy wintersdumbblog, rhodarein, LOOK

(via sophienyan)

xlthuathopec:

medukarrrabu:

A story to tell your grandchildren.

This is literally perfect

(via sophienyan)

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”
On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 
Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 
This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

rainbowcranes:

Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”

On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”. 

Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes. 
I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was. 

This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.

(via cyrilthewolf)