Delirium Induced Tid-Bits

So my name is Kira, all you guys! I like a bunch of stuff...Sherlock, Doctor Who, theatre, really not a set deal for this blog. My life can--in some cases--be witty. I try my best to be so. I really enjoy most everything I read/watch and am open to talk with people! So don't hesitate, internet-ers!

Flower Ask

Daisy:

How old were you when you had your first kiss?

Carnation:

If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer?

Jasmine:

What color looks best on you?

foxglove:

Name three facts about your family?

Allium:

What's the best thing you can cook?

Orange Blossom:

If you could pick the gender and appearance of your child, would you?

Calla Lily:

If you died right now, what song would you want to play at your funeral?

Poinsettia:

Favorite holiday dish?

Oxlip:

Would you ever get into a long distance relationship?

Primrose:

Favorite kind of soup?

Daffodil:

What's the most thoughtful present you've ever received?

Rose:

Are you currently in love with someone?

Amsonia:

Would you ever become a vegan?

Peony:

What's your favorite hot beverage?

Tulip:

For your birthday, what kind of cake do you ask for?

Myrtle:

Do you like going on airplanes?

Hibiscus:

Did you ever play an instrument? If so what?

Zinnia:

Who was your best friend when you were six years old?

Poppy:

What color was your childhood home?

Hydrangea:

Starbucks order?

Violet:

Do you like where you're from?

Locust:

What was your favorite book as a child?

Rhododendron:

What's the scariest dream you've ever had?

Queen Anne's Lace:

Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents?

Magnolia:

Favorite kind of candy?

Aster:

Would you rather be cold or hot?

Marigold:

Do you listen to what's on the radio?

Heliconia:

Do you like when it rains?

Azalea:

What's a movie you cried while watching?

Dandelion:

Do you think you're important?

softmikus:

yeah good grades are cool and all but have you ever had a good night sleep

(Source: sylvehun, via pizza)

rucbarwhovian:

maniacmagic:

vast-fantasies:

bad-wolf-no-more:

bloodofthorns1298:

-MUSIC INTENSIFIES-

ting ting ting tingtingtingtingTINGTINGTINGTINGTINGTING

Beethoven did this too, and he was a genius.

beethoven was not a cat

Yes he was

rucbarwhovian:

maniacmagic:

vast-fantasies:

bad-wolf-no-more:

bloodofthorns1298:

-MUSIC INTENSIFIES-

ting ting ting tingtingtingtingTINGTINGTINGTINGTINGTING

Beethoven did this too, and he was a genius.

beethoven was not a cat

Yes he was

(Source: lalulutres, via cookiesaregoodforyoursoul)

questbedhead:

tenfootpolesociety:

shavingryansprivates:

why he lick me

THIS IS SUPER COOL THOUGH IF YOU UNDERSTAND HORSES. LIKE THAT NIPPING IS A GROOMING BEHAVIOR HORSES DO TO BOND AND TO MAINTAIN AND IMPROVE SOCIAL BONDS. SO THAT HORSE IS BASICALLY TREATING THE CAT AS PART OF THE HERD AND SUSTAINING THE FRIENDLY BOND.

IT IS SAYING, “this tiny horse is very tiny but we are friends. Look at my tiny friend.”

Horses and cats get along really well actually! Cats in barns scare away all the rats and mice that frighten the horses. SO it’s less like the horse accepting it into the ‘herd’ as the horse saying ‘thank you, brave warrior, for protecting me from the scary chitter beasts.’ 

(Source: lolgifs.net, via imagineflying)

penelope-fitzgerald:

sunkist-n-razorblades:

when will my reflection show who i am inside

that a shadow

penelope-fitzgerald:

sunkist-n-razorblades:

when will my reflection show who i am inside

that a shadow

(Source: charlesoberonn, via fucking-shit-reedus)

abiblr:

fucky-str1pe:

themadfangirl:

kieradoe:

whatsortofamandoesntcarryatrowel:

Dad: Why do you think they do that?
Girl: Because the companies who make these try to trick the girls into buying the pink stuff instead of stuff boys want to buy.
[x]

that awkward moment when a child understands the harm of forcing gender roles better than most grown male politicians.

Always reblog.

I’m surprised that I haven’t reblogged this, to be honest.

I love that last gif.  She looks so frustrated.  Like “Um, hello, obviously girls and boys can like anything why doesn’t anybody get that???”

She does have a point though..

Kids who are smarter than adults though.

(Source: this-isakindness, via cookiesaregoodforyoursoul)

brandnudes:

sorry sir my tears ruined my homework

(Source: basedgosh, via thisis-my-note)

hudlionunshod:

roachpatrol:

avatarjk137:

nooby-banana:

thesanityclause:

rinnysega:

vashappeninstyles:

the19thhistory:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.

Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.

what is this 

Get out Canada

I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my sisters’ eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get home from class since schools are getting so over protective and strict these days and won’t allow eagles indoors. Which just goes to show how much we’re bubble wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn’t handle a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid’s eagle, you had to just man up and learn your lesson!

Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack).  Anyway, I couldn’t use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes weren’t the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was worried an eagle wouldn’t show up at all.  I had to stand in the middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours.  Everyone was just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of nowhere!  He came to me so quickly it was like he was apologizing for being late.  And we’ve been together ever since.

Some people think it’s excessive to have two eagles.  But what can I say, I’m a two eagles kind of guy.  Well, I can say, “You must be a terrorist to call me out over my excesses,” but I digress.  We don’t have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my flag atop a decommissioned WWII aircraft carrier.  I was kicking a couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there she was.  I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later and got young Colbert here.  It’s hard work, raising two eagles, but I have two shoulders, after all.  Besides, I know that the secret to happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.

Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so I was totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn’t just going to net me my eagle and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and the problem here — it’s not usually a problem because I make sure to shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays — was that I am, actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn’t just one eagle that showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri, all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp America’s natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my ulna. Completely missed my little brother’s eagle ceremony, which I will always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me an eagle in my heart. 

I usually never reblog long things, but this is worth reading, I swear.

hudlionunshod:

roachpatrol:

avatarjk137:

nooby-banana:

thesanityclause:

rinnysega:

vashappeninstyles:

the19thhistory:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.

Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.

what is this 

Get out Canada

I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my sisters’ eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get home from class since schools are getting so over protective and strict these days and won’t allow eagles indoors. Which just goes to show how much we’re bubble wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn’t handle a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid’s eagle, you had to just man up and learn your lesson!

Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack).  Anyway, I couldn’t use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes weren’t the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was worried an eagle wouldn’t show up at all.  I had to stand in the middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours.  Everyone was just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of nowhere!  He came to me so quickly it was like he was apologizing for being late.  And we’ve been together ever since.

Some people think it’s excessive to have two eagles.  But what can I say, I’m a two eagles kind of guy.  Well, I can say, “You must be a terrorist to call me out over my excesses,” but I digress.  We don’t have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my flag atop a decommissioned WWII aircraft carrier.  I was kicking a couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there she was.  I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later and got young Colbert here.  It’s hard work, raising two eagles, but I have two shoulders, after all.  Besides, I know that the secret to happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.

Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so I was totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn’t just going to net me my eagle and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and the problem here — it’s not usually a problem because I make sure to shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays — was that I am, actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn’t just one eagle that showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri, all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp America’s natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my ulna. Completely missed my little brother’s eagle ceremony, which I will always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me an eagle in my heart. 

I usually never reblog long things, but this is worth reading, I swear.

(Source: actualsaame, via liar-thief-killer-creep)

indevampire:

i think there is no greater dark magic than the cha-cha slide

you will never get a group of people obeying every command so quickly as you will by putting on that song.

every previous conversation grinds to a halt as everyone goes to the left and then takes it back now y’all

(Source: indevan, via hipster-in-storybrooke-maine)

troyesivan:

nutella-enthusiast:

I’ve been told this is how one goes about summoning a wild Troye Sivan, and figured I’d give it a go.
Is it working?

i came as quick as i could whats up

troyesivan:

nutella-enthusiast:

I’ve been told this is how one goes about summoning a wild Troye Sivan, and figured I’d give it a go.

Is it working?

i came as quick as i could whats up

(Source: ripwarriorprincess, via thisis-my-note)

“The human body essentially recreates itself every six months. Nearly every cell of hair and skin and bone dies and another is directed to its former place. You are not who you were last November.”

—   Donald Miller  (via themilkywhiteway)

(Source: larmoyante, via crosherlock)

aobunz:

lcarkatvantas:

saradaktal:

U just want. Taco!

i think your dad might be going through his scene phase

its not a phase its who he is

aobunz:

lcarkatvantas:

saradaktal:

U just want. Taco!

i think your dad might be going through his scene phase

its not a phase its who he is

(via crosherlock)

chronic-genderbender:

jaredsadalecki:

breaking news: obama is not real. obama is a fiction of our imaginations. this country is being run by our imaginary friend, barack obama

Breaking News: Mitt Romney campaigned against an imaginary man and still lost the presidency.

chronic-genderbender:

jaredsadalecki:

breaking news: obama is not real. obama is a fiction of our imaginations. this country is being run by our imaginary friend, barack obama

Breaking News: Mitt Romney campaigned against an imaginary man and still lost the presidency.

(Source: jaredsadalecki, via crosherlock)

shuckl:

voldemortshideousnipple:

whoever made these is a god

it was frenums.tumblr.com and since this post isn’t sourced to her i’m gonna go ahead and stick a link to their blog here so they get some credit

(Source: fruitandfitspo, via thenerdswillrule)

feferi-commander-of-booty-peixes:

flewor:

its a metaphor

jesus christ

feferi-commander-of-booty-peixes:

flewor:

its a metaphor

jesus christ

(Source: kittiezandtittiez, via thenerdswillrule)