youreyesarelikestarlightnow:

i just don’t understand why Glee won’t cover BSB like at this point I hardly care who sings it. I want solos, all boys, all girls, I don’t care I just want them to cover BSB please.

(via chatterboxrose)

(Source: kurtana, via mackenziethayne-deactivated2013)

shigaretto:

this is a puppy stampede omg

(via acurlyheadedmanhasmoved)

(Source: kaynayan, via hell-and-high-tides)

Beautiful, What's Your Hurry?: So I woke up this morning in a pool of my own blood.

itscandidlycara:

Wait, let me back up.

Hi, my name is Cara and I’m a 21 year old woman. Every 28 days, give or take, I have a period. And it fucking sucks. Today, was one of those where I take from the 28 day cycle. I wasn’t due for another period for at least a week, but considering…

(Source: cordjefferson, via tyleroakley)

lizznotliz:

Here’s another thing I love about John Watson: he’s not intimidated by Mycroft. Oh, he might have been at bit when they first met, being all mysterious and moving cameras and sending along dark sedans, but John’s not an easily frightened or intimidated man and even by the end of that first conversation his hands were steady. Mycroft is an incredibly powerful man, and even though we’re never quite sure his exact position within the government, it is quite clear that he is a man whose position and power is to be respected and possibly [probably?] feared. But after that initial meeting, John is never truly intimidated. He doesn’t really care who or what Mycroft is.

To John, Mycroft is not The British Government, he is His Best Friend’s Brother. Can you imagine anyone else scolding Mycroft in Buckingham Palace (“Boys, please, not here”) or striding into the Diogenes Club to point out his failures as a brother (“You blabbed about his entire life to this maniac… This is what you were trying to tell me, isn’t it? ‘Watch his back ‘cause I’ve made a mistake.’”)? Mycroft probably doesn’t get a lot of people lying to his face (about Sherlock looking for the Bruce-Partington Plans) or being really sarcastic (“Yeah, thanks for that,” John says, after Mycroft didn’t warn them about the Americans at Irene’s place).

It makes me wonder what Mycroft thinks of John; obviously he finds him trustworthy, given the kind of sensitive information he shares at times, but how does he really see John? Does he see him as Sherlock sees him, as important and loyal, or does he sit up nights wondering how this military doctor of no remarkable intelligence (compared to the Holmeses) manages not only to keep up with Sherlock, but has become so valued by Sherlock in a way no one else ever has?

(Source: thecollegecrush.com)

a-rach:

He feels terrible. Completely, utterly terrible. He can feel his tears falling down his cheeks, but it’s like he’s completely helpless - immobile. Instead of wiping them away, he lets them fall, watching as Quinn runs from his truck, her own tears fresh. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He never planned on this, thought that this would be how it would end. When he got back together with her, he was hopeful. He thought that maybe, this would be right. If he could figure things out with Quinn, then everything that went wrong last year - all the drama, lies, and heart break - could finally be put to rest. They’d make things right, fix themselves. He’d finally know why everything that happened had happened, because everything does for a reason, right?

And then he sits during the service, listening to Coach Sylvester’s words about her sister, and it hits him. She talks about loving someone so much that you’re tied, tethered, to someone, and that no matter where you are, you can always feel them. And these words, they just keep running through his mind, over and over. He can’t stop them, can’t ignore the feeling in his gut as Quinn squeezes his hand in her own. She’s holding on to him physically, but it occurs to him then, at that moment, that it’s the only way they’re holding on to each other. There’s no string, no tether. And he knows why.

There’s something else pulling him then, and he knows. He listens to Mr. Schuester read the words Coach Sylvester can’t, because she’s too upset. She misses her sister so much, more than he can even fathom. He figures that nothing can compare to the pain you feel when you lose that one person, your person, the one she talked about being tethered to. He feels a deep ache in his chest then, and he knows. He thinks of losing her, and he immediately wants to cry. He starts to breathe a little faster, and he has to try and calm himself down before he panics and causes a scene. He puts himself in Coach Sylvester’s shoes and he knows. He knows what she means. He knows what he has to do.

He wishes he didn’t have to hurt Quinn. He sees that single tear fall down her cheek and he feels like the worst person ever, hurting her. He never meant for things to happen like this. He knows that he hasn’t been the best boyfriend ever, and he knows she isn’t the first person he’s hurt. But he’s just trying, and really, aren’t they all? They’re all trying to figure out how to survive, how to get by, and they’re not perfect. He’s not perfect. But he wants to be the best possible version of himself he can be, and as Quinn leaves him, he knows this is what he has to do.

He sees Rachel walk out of the church, and he knows. He has to do this, because he has to be the best possible Finn Hudson he can be for her. Because when Coach Sylvester talked about being connected to someone, loving them so much, he thought of Rachel.

It was always Rachel. It would always be Rachel.

THIS.

(Source: alanabloomings, via fuckyeahgleelove)