Trouble Usually Finds Me

May 20

oleolecoldplay:

“I don’t mind not being cool” Chris Martin.-

(via coldplaygraphics)


oleolecoldplay:

Coldplay Alphabet C. Chris

Born 2 March 1977 in Exeter, Devon, England. Exemplary hubby and father.

Enthusiast, vegetarian, Fair Trade supporter. Graduated with First Class honours in University College of London. “If I wasn’t in Coldplay, I’d be playing piano in a gay bar”. He doesn’t mind not being cool. The other one, who sings.

(via coldplaygraphics)





repeating-serenity:

my little brother wrote about me for school and this was one of the sentences he wrote. im sobbing “my sister is my role model because she can watch 12 years worth of law and order in 3 months”

(via thisisnotmyfairytaleendingg)


rneerkat:

darrynek:

rneerkat:

if somebody invented a shirt with a giant pocket in the front they would be millionaires because who wouldnt want to feel like a kangaroo

image

oh

(via eruditefour)


ashlekay:

onthesideoftheotters:

clockworkcalliope:

thefrogman:

image

OH GOD I ANGERED IT

WHAT THE FUCK

I was not emotionally stable enough for that to happen to me.

(via eruditefour)


spoken-not-written:

because-they-always-fall:

henryclervals:

i should not have done this

THIS IS GREAT

HERE IS

OUR PANTHEON

THE TUMBLR PANTHEON

Merlin fandom: Everyone loves Arthur but he dies so.

(via eruditefour)


watchtheskytonight:

tom-sits-like-a-whore:

rumbleroarisalionwhocantalk:

suddenlyemily:

Please tell me I’m not the only one who saw this

oh my GOD

it gets better when you realize that RDJ is also Sherlock

tHE FUCKING CONTINUITY WHAT THE FUCK DIRECTORS

(via eruditefour)


thesockmonkeyrenegade:

gracethelostgirl:

lovewithyous:

carolineflack:

HOW DO YOU MAKE A GUY STOP TEXTING YOU

HOW DO YOU MAKE A GUY START TEXTING YOU

HOW DO YOU MAKE A GUY

image

(via eruditefour)



themicrominer:

pegacornalley:

heiress-to-the-industries:

mldmnnrdrprtr:

crazylipgloss:

thebatmanchild:

athagazagoraphobic:

invisicanada:

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I had a pokemon. Second, there was a part of me - and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be - that wanted to be the very best, like no one ever was. Third, Gary Oak was unconditionally and irrevocably a douchenozzle.

Reblogging for the comment

How old are you? 
“ten”
How long have you been ten?
“…”

HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TEN

Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.
“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”
The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path. 
“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.
Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.
Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.
“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.
“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.
Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.
“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.
Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.
He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”
Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.
Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”

I AM SO DONE WITH YOU PEOPLE

OMIGOSH I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH THIS MADE MY YEAR OMG

“Pikachu,” said Pikachu

themicrominer:

pegacornalley:

heiress-to-the-industries:

mldmnnrdrprtr:

crazylipgloss:

thebatmanchild:

athagazagoraphobic:

invisicanada:

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I had a pokemon. Second, there was a part of me - and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be - that wanted to be the very best, like no one ever was. Third, Gary Oak was unconditionally and irrevocably a douchenozzle.

Reblogging for the comment

How old are you? 

“ten”

How long have you been ten?

“…”

HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TEN

Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.

“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”

The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path. 

“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.

“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.

Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.

Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.

“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.

“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.

Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.

“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.

Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.

He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”

Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.

Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”

I AM SO DONE WITH YOU PEOPLE

OMIGOSH I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH THIS MADE MY YEAR OMG

“Pikachu,” said Pikachu

(via firo--prochainezo)



galacticdad:

when i was little i learned what schizophrenia was from TV and for a while i was really afraid because i thought i had it since i always heard my own voice in my head so finally i told a doctor and he informed me that what i was experiencing was called thinking.

(via notquiteimpossible)


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