Social Worker, Youth Navigator, Non-Profit Minion
grimsdark:

The next time a guy complains about being friendzoned, send him this picture.

grimsdark:

The next time a guy complains about being friendzoned, send him this picture.

mugglebornheadcanon:

501. Muggleborns accidentally calling Dumbledore “Gandalf”.

scarred-fallenangel:

cas-with-a-shot-gun:

itsadamstillinhell:

maketotaldestroyx:

j-wolf-harding:

Talk about teamwork.

Holy fuck
fishingboatproceeds:

aliewa:

grouchythefish:

ladyofpurple:

I like how the original title for The Fault in Our Stars is all poetic and then the Norwegians just translated it to “fuck destiny” and I think that’s beautiful

Aw man, I thought for sure this had to be bullshit but nope


Why is it always Norway

Norway, a nation where you can put the word “fuck” on the cover of a young adult novel.

fishingboatproceeds:

aliewa:

grouchythefish:

ladyofpurple:

I like how the original title for The Fault in Our Stars is all poetic and then the Norwegians just translated it to “fuck destiny” and I think that’s beautiful

Aw man, I thought for sure this had to be bullshit but nope

image

Why is it always Norway

Norway, a nation where you can put the word “fuck” on the cover of a young adult novel.

You are not your parents

dean-and-samwinchester:

ticklefighting:

erotic-co:

Meet the hottest subway security guard: Guilherme Leão (Brazil) #1

Follow Erotic-co on Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

GodDAMN

WHO THE FUCK GAVE YOU THE RIGHT

polyamorousmisanthrope:

valkyriestrikeofthelashatterdome:

gotterdammerungs:

                             (x)

And then in the future, everything changes. He’s been through it all, of course-watched humanity rediscover the heavens above them, watched them begin to wonder what’s out there. He cheered with the rest of the world when they landed on the moon, cheered as if he’d found Isla de la Muerta all over again, because there was something new. New treasure, a new horizon. But then they stop going, stop exploring, and he goes back to riding tankers across the rising seas. So he’s surprised when one day he wakes up from a night with his bottle of rum (his truest companion), and hears that there’s colonies on Mars now, and they need ships to supply them. He spends the next decade crafting new identities, learning all he can to qualify for the job, and after several tries (and even more faked deaths-this immortality thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be in the age of the inerasable digital self) he gets it. The ships go nearly constantly now, the needs of the terraforming project creating an unbroken line of vessels from Mars to Earth and back again. “Show me that horizon,” he whispers to himself, his personal prayer of thanksgiving, each time they leave orbit, because the worlds, the stars are in motion and it’s never the same, with nearly three years for a round trip the ports are always different, even if they keep the old names. And finally one trip something goes wrong with the reactor, they’re too low on power and have to deploy the backups, and Jack (Lucky Jack, they call him, for he survives too many things he shouldn’t but science has yet to accept that maybe some things weren’t old wives’ tales after all) goes out for the spacewalk to bring up the solar panels. And as they rise, geometric patterns black against the sun’s glare, he’s struck by a powerful sense of déjà vu, because it’s all here-wind and sails, a ship beneath his feet and stars above his head, horizon in all directions. He wonders, for a moment, if the reason he’s still here is because the universe wanted a witness, to mourn the end of one age of exploration, and rejoice in the birth of the next.

Thank you for writing this. It made me cry, but oh I am so relieved to see the yearning for the stars.