✖ Time ❦ Goes ❦ On ✖

«What we perceive, what we feel, the setting you cannot escape, that is reality»



Then if that is the case, I shall do things on my own time, my own terms.



I make my own reality.



THIS BLOG CONSISTS OF ANIME AND HIDDLESTON


Current obsession: Rin Matsuoka/Free!
1,068,809 plays | by Macklemore/Anton Elmvik

opolla:

tricksterroxylalonde:

ectogasmic:

napoleonbonerhard:

Thrift Shop 8bit (x)
Macklemore

dude this sounds like really bad ass boss music holy shit??

wow

whoops my hand slipped

(Source: straightdating)

"He wants to entrust the light-like things to Rin, but for himself it feels like he’s kind of given up hope… Rin has had setbacks but, from Sousuke’s point of view, [Rin]’s the light.” Hosoya Yoshimasa (Sousuke’s VA) [x]

(Source: chireans)

itsstuckyinmyhead:

The Men of Tumblr

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.
high resolution →

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.

I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.

The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.

"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"

Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.

Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.

I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.

But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.

"No, I’m good," I said.

"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.

Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—

Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Reader, I bought them all.

nosdrinker:

sickbanter:

humoristics:

vaginafor1000alex:

lovethyhippie:

faked the whole squad

faked the cameraman too


sikk tekkers bruv…

This is illegal in 63 galaxies

nosdrinker:

sickbanter:

humoristics:

vaginafor1000alex:

lovethyhippie:

faked the whole squad

faked the cameraman too

sikk tekkers bruv…

This is illegal in 63 galaxies

(Source: ForGIFs.com)

254,924 plays

vinegod:

What High school looks like in commercials by Childish Brandino

THIS IS IMPORTANT

reparteeist:

mother-machinegun:

GUYS TODAY MY GIRLFRIEND AND I WENT TO GOODWILL AND I FOUND THIS FUCKING CLOCK

IT WAS LIKE THIS CLOCK WITH BUTTONS YOU COULD CLICK AND IT CYCLED THROUGH WORDS AND FOR WHATEVER FUCKING REASON THEY INCLUDED THE WORD ‘NUTS’

LIKE

image

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

image

WHAT PURPOSE DOES THIS CLOCK FUCKING SERVE

image

WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD FUCKING IDEA

image

NOOOO

image

THIS IS FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE

image

we bought it.

We spent actual real money on this and its in the bedroom where it belongs

The Avengers and GotG hanging out after their first joint battle...

agentnicdown:

  • Peter geeking out because Captain freakin’ America is listening to his mixtape on his Walkman and omg is he bobbing his head to the music OMG YES
  • Tony nerding out over Peter’s helmet, flicking it on and off and on and off and promising himself Yup, my suit’s gonna do…

50kwatch:

u know what the worst thing about being a girl is… is when another girl asks u for a hair tie, but its ur last one, but u can’t say u don’t have one because she knows its on ur wrist, so u give it to her, and then she says “oh i’ll give it back!” knowing damn well she won’t, and u sit there sad because now you have to go buy another pack of hair ties that u know ur gonna lose by the end of the month

(Source: kev1ndurant)