One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. He’ll know how old you were when you learned to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, where you were when you realised you’d lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have to organise your DVD’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. He’ll know your McDonald’s order, how many sugars to put in your tea, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. He’s going to know how you feel without you telling him, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else? He is still going to love you.
today was the last day of school so i drew 1000 cats on my algebra teachers whiteboard
this still gets notes to this day and everyday i wake up and wonder when the torment will end. when will i be free from these fucking cats. why do they haunt me why is a cat wha
my eleven year old cousin just saw my shirt and said “is that a star trek shirt?” and i acted really offended and said “star trek shirt? star trek shirt? this is not a star trek shirt. this is an official starfleet command uniform, thank you very much” and he looked devistated and started apologizing profusely and felt genuinely terrible about getting it wrong and i just
I realized something. Santa Clause is a time lord.
His sack is bigger on the inside.
If he doesn’t time travel, how else does he travel across he world in one night?
He dresses weird and no one actually sees him.
Think about it.
Let us not forget that Nine knows Rose got a Red Bicycle when she was 12 and that Amelia was praying to santa when the Doctor crashed through into her garden shed.
Reblog if you would be devastated if you found out one of your followers committed suicide.
don’t you dare not reblog!!!!!!
If you don’t reblog this I’m judging you.
D: no… just… noooooo… :’(
don’t you dare
anytime I hear of a suicide actually…
All of you .. You better not …. I care for you even if we have never talked
No matter which way you’re looking the sonic is always pointed at you…
So earlier I came up with this really great idea
And this kind of fits in with that
So I was thinking for some show (probably either Doctor Who or Supernatural), what if throughout an entire episode, or maybe a season, there was this entity that was continually watching the characters every move.
It watches them all the time.
It’s always right behind them, looking over their shoulder.
At one point, they start to acknowledge this creatures existence. Perhaps they catch glimpses of it. The weird thing is, it know everything about them.
It is at this point in time that the monster starts causing trouble. The characters lives are at risk, and you are scared.
In the end, the Doctor or Dean (or someone) finds a way to make it visible. They find a way to get rid of it.
Maybe the Doctor uses his sonic screwdriver. Maybe Dean shots it with his gun. Either way, they do so by looking directly at the camera. Looking at you.
Aiming at you.
You are the monster.
The screen goes black.
In which we discover that tumblr user katmacphail is actually Moftiss.