WELCOME TO THE RADDEST BLOG EVER.
We only serve tarts and malts here.
Alice is like my bby.
MY THEME IS EVER CHANGING.
Info about this lame-o:
•my name's Red
•i am boy
•i am blog
little doodle from the stream that got out of hand
my precious children make me feel a bit better
You can read up to 500 words per minute
WHY IS EVERYTHING SO MUCH FUNNIER WHEN YOURE LAYING ON THE FLOOR
Found this ad in a Nickelodeon magazine from 2004.
Science side of tumblr how do I become a jellyfish
perform the following ritual
john oliver is really not fucking around
I’m constantly confused by the fact that so many people don’t realise both “Sam” and “Sammy” are nicknames
I read so much fic where “Sam Winchester” is on his headstone or official documentation or ID and I just
but Sam is his real name
(screen shot from 1x15, the police records on S&D)
An owl gets inside the house. The Owl Whisperer™ tries to get it back outside again. x
I like how he uses a swiffer mop to de-owl his house
I had to do this you don’t understand these are so cute.
A PRAYING MANTIS SO I CAN FUCK AND THEN MURDER THE MEN I LOVE
Well you’re definitely worth dying for uvu
if i were a praying mantis i would drop all instinct and everything i’ve been taught so that you and i could live together forever
or, yknow, you should just kiss me
You’re fucking radical golly
Its the color of the flowers you slipped in her hair as you were kids. It was the color of the spring scarf you gave her for her birthday. The color of eye shadow you both used to look more grownup. It was the color that covered her walls and was always found somewhere in her clothes. It was the color of her hair, the color of her smile, and the color of her voice. It was bright and warm and so magical. It was the color of her sheets when she was diagnosed. It was the color that left her hair as she grew frail. Yet, even as she slowly became weak and lost the light, it was still the spark that came from her laugh. It was the color of the flowers beside her hospital bed on her last day. It was the color of the ring you two both wore since kindergarten, the sign of friendship. It was the color of the dress they put on her. It was the color of the flowers she held and the color of her makeup and the color of those same flowers planted in front of her grave.
It was the color of the following empty summers to come.
It was the color of your friendship.