My name is Lola.
I'm 15 year old.
I live in London.
I'm kinda internet obsessed.
I blog the stuff that I like, relate to and think is important.
Feel free to ask me anything, I like to listen.

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justafanboy:

Only Andrew Garfield can capture the sassyness that is spider man.

(via not-currently-sane)

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(Source: consultingflatmates, via not-currently-sane)

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wizard-in-the-tardis: lilyjoy30-impala: daenerystaygaryen: To just sleep in a car like this, with your best friend or boyfriend and not worry because its just you two and tomorrow you’re just going to climb out of bed and into the front of the car where you’ll drive off. Another day on your road trip together, living, laughing, loving. But then you hear a noise outside. Your friend goes to investigate and never comes back. You wait, and then decide to go looking for them. You grab a torch and climb out and scan the trees with the light.  You hear a dripping noise behind you.  You turn around and see water dripping onto the car, but it’s not raining. You shine the torch onto the water, and realise it’s red. It’s blood. You look up, and there’s your friend, hanging from the tree above, stomach ripped open and hand reaching down, dripping blood.  You go to scream but then something hits you from behind.  You were in the first five minutes of Supernatural. BEFORE THE POST EVEN STARTED I KNEW I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN
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unjolras:

my body isnt a temple my body is a castle with a moat and crocodiles and a dragon who will set you on fire if you touch me

(Source: pansypunx, via smallkatiej)

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pleurphoria: hashtagmeow: failureuponfailure: backyardskills: one of my all time favourite photos its back so don’t even tell me i matter, because i don’t. oh how wrong you all are. every word we utter and every action we make has an impact on everyone on this earth. something as small as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world. everything is connected and everything matters. there’s not an atom in our bodies that has not been forged in the furnace of the sun. and… we are all related. every single one of us has ascended from the same human beings. we are family. we are one with the sun. we are one with the moon. we are one with the sea. we are one with the earth. we are one with nature.
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toni-tan:

they-call-me-wonder-woman:

h0odrich:

It’s mad depressing when u eat the last piece of candy but you didn’t look at the bag and realize it was the last one so you could truly appreciate it for what it was worth

This speaks to me on a deep emotional level.

This sounds like some kind of metaphor for taking things for granted

(via smallkatiej)

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theworldhereinmymind:

Game of Thrones 90s era by Mike Wrobel

(via thesnowinthedarkness)

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wyte-one-thousand: pleiadian-princess: radagastlovesyou: you-are-another-me: There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it. And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home. This is the most amazing thing I have ever read. THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM ALMOST TEARING UP Reblog for eternity.
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manicpixiedeathbitch:

  • Harry Potter and the voldemort can u not with the stone
  • Harry Potter and the voldemort can u not with the chamber
  • Harry Potter and the voldemort can u not with the dementors
  • Harry Potter and the voldemort can u not with the triwizard tournament
  • Harry Potter and the voldemort can u not with the returning
  • Harry Potter and the voldemort can u not with the creepy childhood
  • Harry Potter and the voldemort can u not with the horcruxes and just die already jfc

(via wakoflyer)

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