She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike.

henriked:

Henrik Lundqvist ain’t about that breakaway business, son. - March 28, 2013

sebastianstalberg:

darryl-love-zhenya:

sebastianstalberg:

There are coyotes in the backyard

The hockey team?

yes they are having a barbecue

molegan:

Best Sounds from Round One

youremyboyy:

in Mavin we don’t say ‘I love you’ we say ‘you’re a piece of shit and I hate you’ and I think that’s beautiful.

girlargueswithtree:

how it all ends

uggatrip:

when you try to tell someone a joke but you punch up the fuckline

“Seriously?”

lamer-than-lame:

Why, yes, I just found my favourite gif on the interwebz.

whorville:

the-walkers-arent-dead:

whorville:

I love how in French you don’t really say eighty. You say quatre-vingts. Which means 4 20s.

Blaze it

two kinds of people

I am the only one involved in this post

asap-tran:

really-shit:

If your phone gets wet, try putting it in a bag of dry rice. At night, the rice will attract Asians who will fix your electronics for you.

fuck