dggystyle:

It is you. It is fucking you. I cannot describe it anymore, it is you. You are the only one that I will ever want. I belong with you. You are my home. I look at you, and somehow I can see 50 years from now on the front porch of some old house in the middle of nowhere and we’re together. I need you. You are the only thing that matters. You are my good.

134,051 notes  3 hours agofvckingzarryamoribus

sadurday:

oh man the best is when a dude is like "you’re not wife material." fucking good. i want to be totalitarian dictator material; blood sucking life ruiner material; fucking bulletproof immortal drug lord material. not your fucking wife you gross asshole. 

216,182 notes  4 hours agodiarycruxsadurday

officialbaio:

etudier….

etud…

etu…

et…

e…

d…

dor…

dorm…

dormir.

191,992 notes  4 hours agothatbluebox

i feel a little bad for putting up such a snoot about not walking at graduation and like

my poor granddad was so disappointed and my mom too and now i’m feeling horrible

#!text
Twenty One Pilots - Holding Onto You | x 
1,750 notes  5 hours agonovaquillhuntsboy
Title: Outside (feat. Ellie Goulding)
Artist: Calvin Harris
Played: 1492 times


i’m really pissed cause like

i don’t want to make twenty sets of notecards for my students because they’re too fucking lazy to do it

i don’t have twenty sets of 40 notecards anymore

i don’t have MONEY for twenty sets of 40 note cards

#!text

i’m just to the point where I don’t want to do anymore work and I’m seriously contemplating just dropping out and becoming a writer. 

“The first time he calls you holy,
you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
The second time,
you moan gospel around his fingers
between your teeth.
He has always surprised
you into surprising yourself.
Because he’s an angel hiding his halo
behind his back and
nothing has ever felt so filthy
as plucking the wings from his shoulders—
undressing his softness
one feather at a time.
God, if you’re out there,
if you’re listening,
he fucks like a seraphim,
and there’s no part of scripture
that ever prepared you for his hands.
Hands that map a communion
in the cradle of your hips.
Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
He confesses how long he’s looked
for a place to worship and,
oh,
you put him on his knees.
When he sinks to the floor and moans
like he can’t help himself,
you wonder if the other angels
fell so sweet.
He says his prayers between your thighs
and you dig your heels into the base of his spine
until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.
You will ruin him and he will thank you;
he will say please.
No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,
but you fit over his hips like they
were made for you.
You fit, you fit, you fit.
On top of him, you are an ancient god
that only he remembers and he
offers up his skin.
And you take it.
Who knew sacrifice was so profane?
And once you’ve taught him how to hold
your throat in one hand
and your heart in the other,
you will have forgotten every other word,
except his name.”
PROFANE, by Ashe Vernon (via tromos)

“Things change all the time, mostly in little ways. That’s how it goes, I guess.”
— Rachel Cohn & David Levithan, Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares (via observando)

“I don’t want to be a sweetheart. I want to be the fucking love of your life.”
— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah  (via clumsiest)

chocolatemew:

zimpreg:

characters that go from villain to weird family member give me strength

image

274,348 notes  7 hours agoteslawasrobbedskelempreg

arkhamsiren:

i need that for my porch

62,284 notes  7 hours agoarkhamsirenonlylolgifs