Je m'appelle Caroline. Here are some things I like that probably don't belong to me, most likely related to books, Doctor Who, music, or whatever the hell I feel like really.
Posted: 2 hours ago ● 90 notesReblog

nerve-ender:

I’m Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket - Pierce The Veil

(via dearselfloveme)

Posted: 2 hours ago ● 9,670 notesReblog

(Source: turquesa1406, via toraks)

Posted: 2 hours ago ● 4,726 notesReblog

fer1972:

 Rune Guneriussen 

(via toraks)

Posted: 2 hours ago ● 59,827 notesReblog

[AGGRESSIVELY CARES FOR YOU FROM A DISTANCE BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER]

(Source: andyglassismymom, via fayzendgame)

Posted: 21 hours ago ● 740 notesReblog

(Source: loganlerman, via kayascoddrs)

Posted: 21 hours ago ● 1 noteReblog

Wow look at me not doing any homework. And stressing about having too much homework.

Posted: 22 hours ago ● 208,278 notesReblog

zubat:

Blood is thicker than water but maple syrup is thicker than blood so technically pancakes are more important than family.

(via inkdead)

#yes 
Posted: 22 hours ago ● 109 notesReblog

"

When she died, men in labcoats like angel-wings
spread her, perished,
on a silver table -
and with ceremonial scissors, carved her flesh.
Delving into her gut, they made lists of their discoveries:

there were poems,
whole inky poems stuck in her ribcage like kites in a tree –
the words whispered when they were pulled into the air,
the coroner held them up for all the doctors and nurses to hear.
Next, they searched her kidneys, finding them full of cobblestones and paving-stones,
leaking dust from a far-off city. They were piled beside the cadaver,
a strange, small pyramid.

There were photographs filling her stomach,
memories - laughing voices, bare feet –
in the liver, and music filling the heart.

Next, from her veins, they pulled a string of quotations.
Printed words underlined in blue ink, phrases she’d whispered to herself at 3 AM.
They were worn from frequent use.

And so, the breakthrough came: HUMANS ARE THOUGHTS

blood and bone, cells and atoms - were irrelevant,
the doctors decided, in the face of laughing life.
And at the time of death,
so breakthrough article in the medical journal proclaimed,
we are nothing but the sum of all we love.

"

Beth Lilyan (via ghastlystatue)

(via inkdead)

#poetry 
Posted: 22 hours ago ● 3,522 notesReblog
Posted: 22 hours ago ● 1,454 notesReblog

(Source: slutskarth, via anotheryearpast)

Posted: 23 hours ago ● 28,400 notesReblog

Kanye West getting deep on twitter

(Source: elenacupcakegilbert, via unfayzable)

Posted: 23 hours ago ● 139,488 notesReblog

thepensivebrony:

“you shouldn’t be depressed, people have it worse than you”

finally, after years of searching, the person with the worst life ever is found. formally, they are granted permission to be sad. but only them. only they have earned it. no sads for anyone else at all ever

(via continuouslyquirky)

Posted: 23 hours ago ● 6,354 notesReblog

ahappyhuman:

actegratuit:

Just only 13 years old, Zev (Fiddle Oak) creates a fantasy dreamland through his photographs. His camera is named Betsy. Zev’s sister and assistant Nellie is 17. They enjoy working and creating together. The magic of Fiddle Oak cannot be described in words; no word that already exists can accurately sum up the extreme talent and wonder of Zev and Nellie. 

omfggggggggggggggggggg

(via bryarly)

Posted: 23 hours ago ● 19,226 notesReblog

onlyfoolsandvikings:

Motivational cows for you if you are feeling down

(via myawesomesocks-)

Posted: 23 hours ago ● 1,054 notesReblog

shitroughdrafts:

“The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe. 1845.

(via nanalew)