(Source: neoteeny, via areyoushoree)
(Source: neoteeny, via areyoushoree)
(Source: tardismetohogwarts, via j44ys0nixz)
(Source: quaint-and-jazzy, via piercingsandink)
(Source: hustalantavegas, via j44ys0nixz)
Dave Franco as Eric in 21 Jump Street
#i think you mean dave franco as dave franco in 21 jump street
(Source: jackwilders, via basedclaudy)
(Source: reverh, via darkandchaos)
thehipsterfishwhostolechristmas:
SHOOT IT IN THE EYESu-ok:
What The Hell
he caught the animes
THE EEEYYYEEES
(via johnzile)
(Source: darkandchaos, via darkandchaos)
(via darkandchaos)
I applaud the person who made this gif. It doesn’t skip back it flows, Omfg I just can’t.
ooc: Reblogging for the sheer gorgeousness. Steve is an artist, he appreciates this.
Beautiful, just beautiful
Wow o:
(via yeahitssquish)
Do you know who that picture is of? That’s Marilyn Monroe. They’ve considered her the most beautiful women in the world. She’s gorgeous, and beautiful, right? But look at her stomach. Is it completely flat? Does she not have love handles or, perfect long skinny legs? No. She doesn’t. And wanna know something? Her pants size, was a size 9. She wasn’t some fucking 00 or 1. She had CURVES. You all worry about your pants size, and your weight when, in reality, who cares? Why not live your life and be happy instead of counting calories in your head? Trying to “Be skinny”? You think losing weight is going to automatically make you feel better? It won’t. No magical fairy is gonna come flying outta fucking wood work, declaring, “You’re now officially hot! Boys love you now! You can be accepted by society!” No. Utter, bullshit. You’re fucking beautiful; it’s society that’s fucked. Love yourself, because if you cant love yourself, you can’t love anybody, or anything else. Be free, and be happy. Fuck what the media says, you want that double cheese-burger with bacon? GO FOR IT. Until your weight starts to affect your health, you’re perfectly fine to eat what you please. ♥
(via wwiao)
Remember when you left Gotham? Before all this, before Batman? You were gone seven years. Seven years I waited, hoping that you wouldn’t come back. Every year, I took a holiday. I went to Florence, there’s this cafe, on the banks of the Arno. Every fine evening, I’d sit there and order a Fernet Branca. I had this fantasy, that I would look across the tables and I’d see you there, with a wife and maybe a couple of kids. You wouldn’t say anything to me, nor me to you. But we’d both know that you’d made it, that you were happy. I never wanted you to come back to Gotham. I always knew there was nothing here for you, except pain and tragedy. And I wanted something more for you than that. I still do.
(Source: paralysedbeaver, via reixben-deactivated20130317)
