My Wonderland

jazzman8675309:

jazzman8675309:

prince-of-insanity:

psychoteentitan:

The US version of Harry Potter is surprisingly short. 

I’ve been laughing at this for like half an hour cause when Harry fires the gun it looks like he’s saying “BAM!”

Bam! Omg I’m dying

Someone reblogged this from me after I forgot about it and then I laughed for ten minutes and actually LEFT MY BED TO SHOW MY FAMILY

jazzman8675309:

jazzman8675309:

prince-of-insanity:

psychoteentitan:

The US version of Harry Potter is surprisingly short. 

I’ve been laughing at this for like half an hour cause when Harry fires the gun it looks like he’s saying “BAM!”

Bam! Omg I’m dying

Someone reblogged this from me after I forgot about it and then I laughed for ten minutes and actually LEFT MY BED TO SHOW MY FAMILY


allthingshyper:

gehayi:

hiddlesbatchlove:

forever-falling-forward:

platredeparis:

bnycolew:

mannysiege:

Progress

What

Imma just let this sit here

MOTHA FUCKIN SCIENCE

sources:
Engagdget
DailyTech
CBS

They turned RNA into an anti-virus program. That is amazing.

Let me restate this in case it didn’t sink in the first time
Researchers physically DELETED ALL TRACES of the HIV virus from a human cell.
ALL OF IT.
IF YOU ARE NOT EXCITED ABOUT THAT I DON’T THINK YOU KNOW WHAT HIV IS
View Larger

allthingshyper:

gehayi:

hiddlesbatchlove:

forever-falling-forward:

platredeparis:

bnycolew:

mannysiege:

Progress

What

Imma just let this sit here

MOTHA FUCKIN SCIENCE

sources:

Engagdget

DailyTech

CBS

They turned RNA into an anti-virus program. That is amazing.

Let me restate this in case it didn’t sink in the first time

Researchers physically DELETED ALL TRACES of the HIV virus from a human cell.

ALL OF IT.

IF YOU ARE NOT EXCITED ABOUT THAT I DON’T THINK YOU KNOW WHAT HIV IS

(Source: mannysiege)


hello bone marrow and chicken stew and tummy tuck and laxative and clutching your skin as if it was poison hello rocky inner teeth
hello breaking

flight-or-flight and strung wire, you are
coughing up the lunch your mother made you and
somehow not
crying

you’re champagne drunk and posing in pictures with absolute control, hand on hip, arms at wide angles, smile as if you are a tuned harp instead of an accident waiting to happen, smile as if you’ve only ever tasted good food and warm stomachs

teeter-heels, small dress, hands that fumble for the lightswitch before they get to his pants.

you are sick nights, weak moonlight, you are counting how many bridges you can set alight in one fell swoop, you are jaundice nobody seems to notice even if they can see right through you

you are small notes at the bottom of your paper: don’t eat, you will
hate yourself later

liquor bottle clutched in little fist. you are the plague horse. your breath gives it away.
inside you are rotting.
everybody knows and no one says anything.

bad voices, bad night, bad life. bad brain allergic to back fat. you want to dig worm fingers into clay skin, come up with ugly roots, you want to let the desert sand erase you.

but your waver-heart still beats, however weak. some part of you holds on. some part of you still dreams.

you could be firefly, you could be midnight star, you could fight this whole thing off.

hello, unbroken stalactite crystals of a body like a cave. hello visions of mother’s sugar cookies and cupcake icing, hello shaky hands folding in prayer, hello soft haybales and full breath and daisy chains

no you may not be okay,
but for what it’s worth,
tonight, you will stay.

Arsenic: part 4/9 in a series // r.i.d (via inkskinned)


hello bone marrow and chicken stew and tummy tuck and laxative and clutching your skin as if it was poison hello rocky inner teeth
hello breaking

flight-or-flight and strung wire, you are
coughing up the lunch your mother made you and
somehow not
crying

you’re champagne drunk and posing in pictures with absolute control, hand on hip, arms at wide angles, smile as if you are a tuned harp instead of an accident waiting to happen, smile as if you’ve only ever tasted good food and warm stomachs

teeter-heels, small dress, hands that fumble for the lightswitch before they get to his pants.

you are sick nights, weak moonlight, you are counting how many bridges you can set alight in one fell swoop, you are jaundice nobody seems to notice even if they can see right through you

you are small notes at the bottom of your paper: don’t eat, you will
hate yourself later

liquor bottle clutched in little fist. you are the plague horse. your breath gives it away.
inside you are rotting.
everybody knows and no one says anything.

bad voices, bad night, bad life. bad brain allergic to back fat. you want to dig worm fingers into clay skin, come up with ugly roots, you want to let the desert sand erase you.

but your waver-heart still beats, however weak. some part of you holds on. some part of you still dreams.

you could be firefly, you could be midnight star, you could fight this whole thing off.

hello, unbroken stalactite crystals of a body like a cave. hello visions of mother’s sugar cookies and cupcake icing, hello shaky hands folding in prayer, hello soft haybales and full breath and daisy chains

no you may not be okay,
but for what it’s worth,
tonight, you will stay.

Arsenic: part 4/9 in a series // r.i.d (via inkskinned)