People who think that a ship needs to be sexual in order to be valid.
I don´t love my followers because they follow me
I love them because:
- a “like” in a post that took me time makes my day
- a *hugs* when I’m sad can make all the difference
- the effort to go on my ask box and talk to me makes me feel like I’m worth of something
- And because when you reblog something and fangirl with me I don´t feel so alone
So thank you for following me
- me listening to love songs: wow this is about my otp
- me listening to happy songs: wow this is about my otp
- me listening to sad songs: wow this is about my otp
- me listening to the theme song of that's so raven: wow this is about my otp
- me listening to the rain: wow this is about my otp
You know what’s kind of beautiful?
In French, you don’t really say, “I miss you.”
You say, “Tu me manques,” which is closer to, “You are missing from me.”
I love that. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb or an organ, or blood. I cannot function, without you.
Let’s not beat around the bush here…
OR SHALL WE?!
Why the fuck is she cuddling with Tampax at what appears to be a pool that is also the ocean?
I want a tampon commercial where the women are fighting zombies or some shit.
And they’re all beat up and bloody and shoving tampons into bullet wounds to stop the bleeding.
And I want one of the ladies to full-on decapitate a zombie with a machete or maybe a scythe.
And then I want her to look directly into the camera with blood running from an open wound on her forehead and say,
“For the fighting spirit.”
^ That commercial would win all of the Oscars.
That commercial would make more sense that all this faffing about through the fields of daisies and cuddling your fucking tampons bullshit…
What are you talking about?
I sit by the pool/ocean cuddle my tampons all the fucking time.
Who wants to start a tampon company with me just so we can make that commercial?
What would it be called, Tampocalypse? I’d be game if it were called Tampocalypse.
reblogging for the priceless notes
The Tampocalypse
FOR THE FIGHTING SPIRIT.
Well periods aren’t all ‘Let me parade around in my motherfucking white bikini at the beach and shake my ass around in front of the hot boys while snuggling my tampon box”
IT’S LITERALLY A BLOOD BATH!!
IT’S A WAR!
IF YOU GET IN MY WAY, FUCKER I WILL KNOCK YOU THE FUCK OUT!
Tampocalypse.
I love the internet.
I would buy the shit outta that.
This made me laugh my ass off this morning - I love this! I would buy the shit outta this.
Let’s all take a moment and appreciate the people of tumblr.
no matter what blog you have, i think everyone will reblog this just because it is that fucking great…
*Dying because all of this*
Reblogging for the commentary, and because I need that commercial in my life.
washington | a hawkeye/black widow au
The mission is like any other, even if it takes place in the heart of the country. Get in. Retrieve the files and eliminate the target. Get out. They flirt and banter along the way, make a bet who’s going to finish their task first (her downloading the files or him taking out the target). They never find out. It’s all a trap, has been from the start and when Natasha finds the dead guards, hears Clint telling her he’s going in, she knows, it’s too late. His hoarse, broken Nat echoes in her mind for weeks.
He is brought to a secret facility, a playground for doctors who use him for their horrible and cruel experiments. Nightmares become his constant friend but he never gives up, trusts Nat to come for him. She gives her best, uses every tool in her arsenal to get information about his whereabouts, doesn’t rest until she has finally found him.
Time loses all meaning but one day there’s a hidden message from her, carved into a wooden panel, and Clint has barely time to process its meaning before he hears the unmistakeable sound of Nat’s Widow’s Bite. They bring hell down on the place, leaving nothing behind but smoking ruins and crushed bodies - like Budapest all over again. They don’t look back as they drive off.
Natasha takes him to her temporary hideout, an old barrack in the desert, and for a moment she has to close her eyes, battling her own emotions as she sees the extend of Clint’s injuries. Gently, with far greater care than one would suspect, she cleans him, runs her hands over his bruised body. When he wraps his fingers around hers and slowly pulls her close, she doesn’t resist. For the first time, their nightmares stay away.
Boggs and the rescue team go to the Capitol to save Peeta.
JEREMY RENNER FOR BOGGS!
I’M THROWING MONEY AT THE SCREEN BUT NOTHING’S HAPPENING!!
SAY IT
You and I remember Budapest very differently.
oh my god i shouldn’t be laughing so hard
