Everyone has their secrets.

Hello, I am Saysay and this is my tumblemachine. It's got a little bit of almost everything.

[innocenceinchaos]

Well, damn. Hello again, tumblemachine!

Been what… 6 years?!

Nice to come back to some wild changes, not so nice to sort through an entire inbox of porn bots.

[spaceisart]

[boys-say-go]

when u scratch a cat’s chin and they lift their head up reblog if u agree

[sinfullvibes]

I’m down to cuddle for like 2 days straight

[bakedloaf]

Queen 👑

[prettyblessedstonerprincess-dea]

😍😍😍😍

[trixforadults]

Omg wanttttt

[dewdropdwelliing-deactivated201]

Adventurers by Nelleke Pierters

[i-am-ascension]

[barefootcosplayer]

Listen I am so here for platonic “I love you"s. I don’t care if you think “I love you” is some sacred phrase to only utter to one person in your life, i don’t care if you think it makes me look overbearing. I say “I love you” to my friends every time I say goodbye because I want them to know 100% without a doubt that I care for them and love them and am there for them so so much.

[chaos-in-the-silence]

[kevinolett]

[virgojesus]

[reheals]

how is it that i am distracted by everything yet paying attention to nothing

[jacquesdemys]

West Side Story (1961, dir. Robert Wise/Jerome Robbins)

[sourwolfsam]

Gryffindors are bright mornings, leaves dripping in gold. They’re the trailblazers, unafraid of the road ahead. They’re laughing so loud your stomach hurts, the knowledge that your friends are right behind you wherever you go. They’re ice skating with someone you love, clinging on to them for dear life. They’re make-believe games with quests and dragons and swords pointing at the sky. They’re rosy cheeks, winter winds and freezing hands. They’re the adrenaline when a plane takes off, the drop at the top of a rollercoaster. They’re delighted screams and freedom, the wind through your hair. They’re panting, pillow fights, feathers bursting into the air. They’re finger painting and festivals and burning sunsets. They’re the burn in your lung after chasing something you’ll never be able to catch. 

Hufflepuffs are honey and flowers and the soft autumn sun. They’re knitted jumpers and scarves and soft tan boots. They’re fresh air and nature, the sound of birds singing. They’re rolling down a hill in the spring, grass stains on your knees, daisy chains in your hair. They’re waving at someone across a crowded room, bright smiles and laughter. They’re coming home after a long day and seeing your family. They’re playing fetch with your dog, your cat weaving between your feet. They’re fluffy socks and song birds and kraft notebooks with hand drawn patterns. They’re throw cushions on a bed, a tiny cottage surrounded by wilderness. They’re the ground beneath your feet, the air that you breathe. They’re the light you chase when you thought you’d never see the morning. 

Ravenclaws are leather bound books and overstocked libraries. They’re waking up at two am to google that thing that’s bugging you. They’re journals with half the words crossed out, scribbles and ink stains and missing pages. They’re stretching when you’ve been hunched over all day, rolling off the edge of a bed, burrowing in blankets. They’re torch light and held breaths and reverent whispers. They’re the entire night sky and everything beyond it; the embodiment of the universe. They’re desperate searches and hidden castles and ghost stories by firelight. They’re the mystery of a dark corridor, the force of a whirlwind. They’re the excitement of discovery, the rustle of crunched up paper. They’re the last whisper before you fall asleep. 

Slytherins are foggy hillsides and picturesque landscapes. They’re hand written love notes and subtle glances across a classroom. They’re black boots, long coats, buttons done up to the top. They’re tipping your head back to breathe the air, kicking up stones on a deserted path. They’re mirrored lakes, everything below the surface. They’re the confidence to get something right, the feel of magic in your fingertips. They’re holding your breath underwater, pretending to be a mermaid when you swim. They’re finding that one song that makes you want to create a storm. They’re the chill in the breeze, the force in the tide. They’re enchanted forests and lingering glances and long drives. They’re the lightning and the thunder and everything in between. 

[michellepsychologist]

The basic stuff of the universe, at its core, is looking like a kind of pure energy that is malleable to human intention and expectation in a way that defies our old mechanistic model of the universe–as though our expectation itself causes our energy to flow out into the world and affect other energy systems.

James Redfield, The Celestine Prophecy (via psych-facts)

[panacirema]

[thebiglesbian]

*sets self on fire*

[heyimrudeacid]

*sets room on fire*

[fuckyeahkrieger]

This doesn’t help my pyroness.

[dragondeathcab]

@ashermajestywishes

[ashermajestywishes]

drops computer, lights incense, holds it up to the fire alarm. 

yall be like *drinks some apple juice* “juice hoe(:” *eats a bagel* “carbs hoe(:” *breathes* “respiratory hoe(:”

[kesus-deactivated20180911]

The signs as hoes from this post: Juice hoe: Pisces, cancer, leo, Capricorn, Gemini Carbs hoe: Taurus, Aries, Virgo, Aquarius Respiratory hoe: libra, Sagittarius, Scorpio

[weloveshortvideos]

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

#aaaaaaa

OH NO TOO MUCH CUTE FOR US TO HANDLE