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Samantha

@sgranillo33

hiya. I'm Samantha I'm 15 I love music and live in the Bay area!
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hazelandgold

Can ya’ll believe just how much fanfic has skewed with our sense of how long something is? Like my ass can’t sit down to read a 3,000 word document for class but I can look at a 70,000 word fic like “oh that’s not too long, I can read that in a few hours.” 

When did 70,000 words become SHORT 

Were legit out here reading entire novels a day

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w0lfstar97

Remus: Are you crying?

Sirius: no, I’m having an allergic reaction.

Remus: to what?

Sirius: life.

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sgranillo33

BIG MOOD!!

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w0lfstar97
At 3 a.m.
Sirius: Rem, have you ever fallen in love?
Remus:
Remus: … I can’t even fall asleep
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sgranillo33

Mood!

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Ok make a hoe cry. Like tf.

#harrypotter #remuslupin #siriusblack #hogwarts #fredwesaley #tonks #dumbldore #cedricdiggory #severussnape

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#harry Potter #Hermione #ron Wesley #Dumbledore

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halesbane
“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.” — Bob Marley
Source: halesbane
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Sleepless in Seattle- “…it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together… and I knew it.“

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I want a girlfriend or boyfriend so bad.

Like I'm so lonely..

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sgranillo33

She needs to get a damn life and stop talking shit about a 14 year old.

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every road leads to an end

this is for everyone in my inbox who asked for a mike coming out story.

***

Mike’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the phone on the corner of his desk - a hand-me-down he’d nabbed from Nancy’s room when she’d packed all of her things and headed off to college two summers ago. He nearly knocks the entire thing to the floor in his haste to grab it.

“Get a grip, Wheeler,” he mumbles out loud to himself, but he can’t quite stop the tremor from coursing through him - it’s the adrenaline, maybe. Probably not fear. Definitely anger.

Mike shakes his head and pulls out a piece of crumpled paper from his desk drawer, taking his time to punch the neatly-written numbers into the keypad on the phone. It rings once, twice, three times.

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