His favourite part (🔊) 

The mashup you never thought would work

Congratu-fucking-lations.

I would pay so much to have this as a ringtone I’m not even joking.

Why?????

The face I made while listening to this was so visceral I had to draw it before reblogging it

@sillygooseface TORI I’M CRYING PLEASE LISTEN

Well. That was indeed a thing that happened.

@lindsayetumbls @elisaintime @nellachronism

(Would’ve been better with a different version of POTO but it’s irrevocably stuck in my head so…eh.)

Holy shit.

Better play this as my coffin is lowered into the ground y’all

For the love... I facepalmed within 2 seconds. I can't un-hear it....

please listen to this guy from Chicago ague with this snake

I want to see this man film a full season of animal documentaries

“don’t you dare rattle that fuckin thing at me!” oh my god

“I just don’t think what you’re doing is a safe behavior”

*cries in Midwest expat*

This is so bizarrely pure??

There is hardly a thing I can say in its favor, except that I was cheered by nearly every minute of it. I cannot argue for the script, the direction, the acting or even the mummy, but I can say that I was not bored and sometimes I was unreasonably pleased. - Roger Ebert

As a person who watched mummy billion of times and always ready to watch it once more I simply can’t to not reblog this

The mummy is perfection

I’ve seen this move more than just about any other movie in my lifetime, and that INCLUDES Marvel movies.  If I catch it on TV and it’s 20 minutes in?  Oh well - time to stretch out on the couch I guess.  

So many lines will make me snicker no matter how many times I’ve seen this movie. 

“Well, if it ain’t my little buddy Benny.”

“Looks to me like you’re on the wrong side of the river!”

This movie captured the adventurous spirit of the time, of the movies that tried to capture this historical period.  

And, well, I can’t hear anyone…ANYONE…say the name “Winston” without silently yelling in my head:

PEDAL FASTER!

Sometimes I may say it out loud. 

I am not ashamed.  

My mom and I go back and forth with the lines "🎶Patience is a virtue🎶" -"Not right now it isnt!" Seriously, the best.

I’ve watched this like 10 times because I don’t understand

im so sad when it ends everytime. i want more

Where did the notes go looool

Fun fact: the moon walk is an illusion of weight. You think his weight is on one leg when in fact it's on the other.

The sideways one however... blows my mind. Although, I'm sure it's a similar concept.

I LOVE THIS VIDEO

wait for it………..

Sound up.

What a good baby!

Am I ridiculous?

I HATE it when people ask me if I’m having twins. It makes me feel so self conscious about my image. Am I being overly sensitive? Any other Tumblr mommas ever feel this way?

Well, no one asked about twins but, some people laughed about how big my belly is. And I'm crying.

An update...

So.  I haven’t been on Tumblr in over six months I think, maybe more.  Life has been weird and sad and horrible for the last year but this year I am trying to take control of things again.  So. I thought i’d write something. It’s been a loooong time since I did. So it’s not good. But I wanted to do something creative.   So I did.

Searching

I’ve been looking for her for so long now that I can’t seem to remember a ‘before’ any more.  There was searching, and there was searching, and before that there was pain, and before that? It’s gone.  It’s as if life started with the pain of creation and yet I know there is something else.

I watch the people I pass and long to be part of their lives. Their mundane, solvable lives.  I’m not sure they see me, not now, I feel stretched out as thin as time and so they don’t notice as I pass by.  That’s OK though, they’re not what I’m looking for.  But sometimes it’s nice to stand, near them, and listen to their lives.  In the time I’ve been searching, they have lived and loved and died, and I have watched their children and their children’s children do the same, and all to what end? What is the meaning in all this for them, why do they pursue their loves and hates with such ferocity, only to each die and be forgotten.

I like to watch them die, sometimes. When I am angry and the sparks are coming off my skin and I can feel a scream inside that seeps through my pores until I want to howl and tear down the moon, then I watch them die.  Some go silently, alone and forgotten, in back-alleys and single beds, and they seem to give up their lives easily, their bodies slumping into relaxation as if their life had been so hard that death was a comfortable chair and a warm blanket that they eased into.  Others resist and fight, these are the ones in the hospitals and the fancy homes with their families around them, and they push back and whisper ‘no’ with a scream, wanting to cling on for just a little longer. Futile.  Silent or loud he comes for them.  

I have to stand back or be gone by the time he arrives. He can’t see me here. I wonder if he senses me, but he shows no sign, going about his business with his usual fastidious calm.  I cling on to brickwork and my rage to stop me going in there and reaching inside his heart to find out where she is. He won’t tell me, and I have tried to follow and cannot go where he goes, when he takes their deaths.

At other times, I feel hope, and then I watch the births, the new lives coming into this world, only to live through it then fade themselves.  There are the happy births, with beeping monitors or gentle cushions, surrounded by welcome and love, and there are the hidden births, young women in dark bathrooms gasping as they feel the quick knife-like pains and the tiny bodies.  Sometimes he is there then too, and then I don’t want to follow him, as he takes the small deaths away with him.  I croon lullabies to the babies as they kick their toes and peer at the new world with half-closed eyes, as if already they don’t trust it.  Sometimes they hear me, but I don’t stay long.  It hurts.  The old pain, the first pain, comes back to me when I stay too long near a birth. Her birth, the first thing I remember. And then she was gone.

And so I search, trying to remember where she went and how I can find her.  And I stretch thinner and thinner until a strong breeze almost splits me in two; until I feel as if I can see through myself.  But I am stronger than I look.  I am strong enough that I have been looking for millennia. I have clawed my way through heaven and hell searching and I will not stop.

My daughter. She was perfect. Her skin was soft as clouds and her eyes were bright as starlight.  She had black hair that curled and clung to her head and she was more beautiful than the moon.  And then as I reached to cradle her, they came.  They took her, and left me for dead in the wood, and now I am fury, and I will find her. I will tear down the universe until she is in my arms again.

Sometimes I remember her father. Just a wisp of a memory.  It comes back to me when I pass a flock of birds, and the beating of their wings as they take off reminds me of him somehow.  White feathers flashing. Other times it is the rolling of thunder, and I feel his voice deep in my chest as the storms roar. Today it was a smell, I caught it on the breeze.  Undefinable, I saw people lift their heads and wonder as they caught it.  ‘Baking bread’ or ‘fresh coffee’ or ‘fresh laundry’ they said, but it was the smell of sunshine and power and creation.  I chased it, following the scent like a hound on a trail as it wove between buildings and cities and countries and stars.  And as the scent grew, I remembered more.  I remembered his face, sometimes as large as the sky and other times the right size to hold between my hands as he gazed down at me, and I brushed away his tears with my fingers.  I remembered the way he held me, wrapping me in night and dark and stars and also in his arms as we lay together.

So caught up in the memories was I, that I failed to notice when the scent stopped being a thought on the air, and became real, and he stood before me. He was more beautiful than I had remembered, and more sorrowful, and more afraid. He cried when he saw me all worn thin by love and longing, and he spoke.  

“I’m sorry.” He said, and I remembered before, before the pain and the loss and the searching. I remembered him leaning over me and speaking, and his voice was eternity.

“You understand, we cannot have a child.  The child of the two of us would be the end of everything.  I could not let you keep it, I would have to take it away, for the sake of the world. If you were to hold a child we created…” He stopped and shook his head, and I could see the fear in his eyes.

I remembered, but it was too late. I saw her, behind him, peering at me. Even after all these thousands of years she was so small. Just a child, perhaps 3 or 4. She smiled at me and said my name and ran into my arms. I could not have stopped myself if I had tried.  The world had had its turn.  Lives had been lived, deaths had been mourned, for millennia.  Now it was my turn.  I wrapped my arms around her, and rested my cheek on her soft curls, and as a tear ran down my cheek and into her hair, the world died.

I am Loss.  I had forgotten.  And he is Life.  And we should not have met.  But our child was beautiful, and the world had to die.

Oh my goodness this was absolutely beautiful. Im stunned.

Something Rotten!

omg a musical song about COMPLAINING ABOUT WRITING My whole life I have been waiting for this. MY WHOLE LIFE.

OH MY WORD

YES.

@tinydadman

I REBLOG THIS EVERY SINGLE TIME IT COMES ON MY DASH AN I HAVE LOVED IT EVERY TIME

@queenof-starwars-and-otherthings @cooliogirl101 @blackkatmagic @shanatical @goaskalice137

@lovelylangst @taylor-tut @blueplanettrash this is accurate

This is so accurate that it actually hurts me.

Oh my fucking Chuck

Tagging all the writers i can remember right now

@starsinursa @reallyelegantsharkfish @jhoomwrites @silvie111 @sactownbrowns3 @rosemoonweaver @suckerfordeansfreckles I know I know more but dnddmfjfkcnvivoanaja

@thewhiterabbit42 @littlemisssyreid @imaginedilestrade @iwillbeinmynest and anyone who writes, this is for you.

This is Brilliant!!!

@sgtbxckybxrnes @hymnofthevalkyrie @kimistry27 @cassiopeiassky @themcuhasruinedme @sarahwroteathing @meganlpie

Ben Platt singing “Somewhere” at the 60th GRAMMY Awards 

Blessed

Sweet mother vocals...

Lilly!! It's a must!! Super sad but sooooo worth it! ...but, ya know, I'm just here to make a subtle reccomendation. Lol (also, the movie is great but the Broadway cast recording just does wonders for the music)

“One-tenth off because her bra was sticking out.“

Stick It (2006) dir. Jessica Bendinger

Y'all have no idea how much technicalities like this make me mad. Nail polish? Points off. Earings? Points off. A little hair fell in your face? Points off.

These girls are flipping through the air, Nancy!! If you’re distracted by a sports bra or nail polish then you shouldn’t be judging bc that crap is ridiculous.