
ellievsbear
art blog(derogatory)

oozey mess
Stranger Things
DEAR READER
YOU ARE THE REASON
Peter Solarz
No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium

PR's Tumblrdome
noise dept.
almost home
d e v o n
Cosmic Funnies
Game of Thrones Daily

tannertan36
styofa doing anything
Jules of Nature

shark vs the universe
taylor price
seen from Azerbaijan
seen from Finland
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Côte d’Ivoire
seen from Côte d’Ivoire
seen from Australia
seen from Côte d’Ivoire
@isbitchbettah
But why the last one though what am I not getting
I can’t breath…I have not laughed this hard in years
Okay, quick story about the last one- I go to this school too, and the creative writing teacher is rad as hell (like the kind to give out free coffee on fridays)
After all of the kids have submitted their short stories, he reads them all for the first time to his two kids, who help him grade them, in a way.
One time, a girl wrote a story about a sheep, named Trixie, making her dream come true by moving to the big city to become an actress, a singer, or whatever (he was pretty vague on the description)
She took a bus and a few trains and finally ended up in the ‘Big City’, where she tries to make her dream come true.
Now I dont remember the exact sequence of events that came next, but Trixie the sheep eventually ended up becoming a prostitute mid-sentence.
Our teacher didnt really realize this at the time, since it was his first time reading it, and to his kids he was caught completely off guard. And lets just say he had to explain a few new concepts to his kids that night..
And that’s why we can’t write any more stories about Trixie going to the Big City.
I lost my shit at 21
I cannot breathe!
My whole life has led up to the moment I made this.
You do not need pasta.
Me laying in bed talking to myself at 1:30 in the morning (via seabelle)
"What you do is a tiny, pathetic subset of dancing. I will attempt to turn your robotic routines into poetry, written with the human body. Follow me, or perish, sweater monkeys."
Alright! Cheesy Blasters!