I Am A Dreamer

I Am A Dreamer

1mbue:

Reflections

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Paris

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niick4:

danger-mouz:

calirosegold:

patronustrip:

tootsienoodles:

freackthehopeful:

skylarghost:

weasleyrocksyoursocks:

seong:

I AM FUCKING SCREAMING BECAUSE THIS IS SERIOUSLY THE BEST THING EVER
SWEET JESUS

You have your mother’s cheek bones

godDAMMIT NOW WE’RE SHIPPING CUTLERY
TUMBLR YOU NEED TO S T O P

I hope this post comes back to me when it has a short story attached.

The Utensils were a happy family, just like any other. Fork was a loving, caring father, who worked at a bank, and Spoon was his beautiful wife, who owned a small business that allowed her to spend a lot of time with their son, Spork. Every day, when Fork came home from work, he gently clinked against the rim of Spoon’s face and asked how her day had been. She would go on and on about how her Aunt Bowl was letting anyone fill her up these days, and telling him he would never guess who they got a phone call from today (it was his brother, Knife), and he would just lean back against the china cabinet, staring at his wife’s beautiful reflective surface, and know everything was right in the world.
One day, however, everything was suddenly not right in the world at all.
Fork woke up in the silverware drawer and instantly knew something was wrong. He looked over to where Spoon normally slept, confused when he saw nothing but empty space. Or, at least, he thought it was empty. It took him a minute to see the small note left there. Oh no. God, no, he thought.
He picked up the note with shaking prongs, and read amid tears:
“Fork,
I’m sorry to leave you like this, but I just couldn’t face seeing you. It’s too painful. I’m not strong enough to tell you this to your face, and I know that makes me a coward. I know that makes me a horrible utensil. But I can’t do this anymore.
Do you remember Cow’s party the other night? The night she was so drunk she swore she jumped over the moon? Well, I met someone that night. His name is Dish. And we’re running away together.
Please, don’t try and find us. Dish makes me happy. He doesn’t spend all day staring at me, looking at himself in my reflection.
Goodbye, Fork.
-Spoon”
Fork collapsed to the ground, wishing he could tell Spoon that the reason he loved staring at her reflective surface so much, was because of the way her surface magnified everything around her, making it seem so much greater and more beautiful than people could see themselves as normally. Her personality did the same thing. It’s what he loved most about her. And what he would miss most of all.

I CAN’T EVEN WITH THIS FUCKING SITE.

bra..fucking..vo

sweet jesus i’m crying over cutlery

things like this make me happy i have a tumblr

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mystic-revelations:

(by coffeestainsandcigarettes)

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msmorra:

Taking Sherlock quotes out of context is almost as fun as doing it with Supernatural.

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alinaliya:

by Alexander Konstantinov

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If you’re dating a writer and they don’t write about you — whether it’s good or bad — then they don’t love you. They just don’t. Writers fall in love with the people we find inspiring.

― Jamie Anne Royce (via drapetomania)

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)

May 24 14:48 with 16,990 notes

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exhumations:

Lago di carezza (by Vogelbetrachter)

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