a big fuck you to every dude who has ever laughed in my face
And suppose I never ever met you
Suppose we never fell in love
Suppose I never ever let you
Kiss me so sweet and so softSuppose I never ever saw you
Suppose we never ever called
Suppose I kept on singing love songs
Just to break my own fall
massachusetts-east-coast-prep:
Girl-scout cookies are better than boyfriends
My niece is a girl scout. She is now essentially my drug dealer
I need these so bad right know.
(via funeral-gnome)
I’m going to three theme parties tonight: Skanky Goth, Freaks n Geeks, and Sex Kittens…. wish me luck
sollux ur a dweeb
This makes me inordinately happy.
(via cod-tier-blog)
Breaking Bad except instead of a chemistry teacher Walter White is an art teacher and instead of cooking meth he starts taking hentai commissions on DeviantArt
(via mavdpie-remade)
(via magicallittleponies)
Starting a new style called “Elegant Gothic Lolita Art Student Vampire Romance”.
“Get the fuck off my bike, cunts,” Tintin shouted, then revved it like a motherfucker. Thompson and Thomson went flying off and landed in the gutter like the itinerant tramps they looked and, in essence, were. As a pair of police detectives, it was embarrassing how they’d spent years and years chasing a boy reporter around the world, trying to catch up as he solved crimes and, occasionally, trying to apprehend him for reasons that were never that clear. You’d think after the first couple of times they’d have realised he was a good guy.
“Woah! Woah!” Fuck. It was Snowy: Thomson was still holding on to him. Tintin wheeled the bike around. “Give me my fucking dog, asshole!” he shouted over the roar of the engine.
“I am regretfully unable to do that!” Thomson replied. “To be precise, to do that, we are unable to regret!” Thompson added. What the fuck did that even mean? Was he retarded?
“Uh, right,” Tintin said and grabbed Snowy. “Hey, just wondering how it is that you guys always end up looking like raggedy hobos when I can keep my knickerbockers tucked into my socks the whole damn time?”
“Uh, um, er…” said Thomson, and obviously Thompson said “To be precise, er, um, uh.” Tintin laughed at them and rode off on his motorbike. It was good to be the king.
(via reallyreallyreallytrying)