Somehow I manage to find a new person to crush on like every week and man it sucks

how do people love connor so much, he’s a shit, just because someone’s attractive doesn’t mean they can’t be a horrible person

Guildenstern: It’s autumnal.
Rosencrantz (examining the ground): No leaves.
Guildenstern: Autumnal - nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day… Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it… Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses… deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth — reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.
-Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

(Source: ablogwithaview, via meadowgoth)

ur cute. ur a cutie.


"not everything has to be gay"

not everything has to be straight either but that doesn’t stop 99% of media

(Source: terezipyropeisdead, via stiksandthrones)


my policy for “they’re just doing it for attention” has always been and always will be “then someone needs to pay attention to them”

(via 2spookytrekkie)



According to the song Seasons of Love from RENT, there are 525,600 minutes a year.

One line later, there are “525,000 Moments so dear”.

So, doing the math, we can glean that there are 600 moments which aren’t so dear.

And I think I just used one of them by walking in on my boss who forgot to lock the bathroom stall.

this post did not even remotely go in the direction I was expecting it to

(via mackdaddygee)



Psst, feminists.
The equal pay act of 1963 made wage gap illegal.
Hear that?
Facts are shocking, right?

you know what else is illegal? meth

you know what people still do? meth

(via afternoonsnoozebutton)


på We Heart It.


there’s not enough tequila IN THE WORLD to get me through tomorrow



I think I’m going to start a Latin literature drinking game. Rule #1: Take a shot every time a Roman author abandons the topic at hand to go off on a long, tedious digression about the moral decay caused by wealth, and how things were so much better back when Romans ate off wooden plates and slept on dirt floors.  Rule #2: Take another shot if the complaining author happens to have been enormously rich himself.  (Looking at you, Seneca the Younger…)

*dies of alcohol poisoning*