I'm Camila, I'm 21 and if I'm not here much is for my Uni and blah blah... but I like maths, so that's my life this days :) *Those in the pic are my boyfriend and me <3*

RAVENCLAW
{ wear }

Pottermore: Flamestorm142

McFly

 corrupted




peperomint:

nail polish on fingernails: 2 days
nail polish on toenails: 200 years. ur ghost will have glittery toes. ur descendants will come out of the womb w/ revlon 791 midnight affair perfectly applied. infinite

(via potsandpanssexual)

cloneclubdancepartay:

tree-stump-palace:

whentherestrouble:

smoochums:

women grow hair on their boobs and their butts and their legs and their arms and their stomachs and their face and really anywhere their genetics decides to have hair and it is perfectly normal what isnt normal is men who have never touched a razor trying to shame women for not looking like a hairless baby

important

shout this loud.

I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE TO HAVE HAIR ON MY BOOBS?!?!

(via bigbandtheoree)

runecestershire:

tyreenosaurusrex:

In honor of Shakespeare’s 450th birthday, I would like to take this moment and share a profound quotation from the bard:

image

Such mastery of the English language.

Remember that when this goes down, they are indoors.

(via potsandpanssexual)

Anonymous said: What's the most illegal thing you ever did?

urulokid:

sephyerite:

almanzapedia:

At Stanford there was this Professor who was a total bitch and she taught British Literature, which was cool. Except she taught only her opinions of the books and it didn’t help me as a writer. I went to school to learn new things to improve my craft, not have someone else’s opinions carved onto my forehead.

So anyway, for our final project, she asked us to write a ten page paper on why the color symbolism in Othello was so significant. I did some research and it turned out that she did her entire graduate thesis on this very subject. I was mad. This wasn’t teaching, this was boosting her ego. SO I wrote a ten page essay on why color symbolism in Othello wasn’t significant, satirizing it to the point of no return, saying that her opinion was an opinion and shouldn’t be taken seriously.

SHe failed me, needless to say. So in retaliation, I responded by baking a batch of brownies laced with weed and laxatives and delivered them myself to the professor hours before her big graduation speech. I told her that it was a peace offering, my way of apologizing and asking if I could do anything to fix my grade.

She refused to fix my grade.

In the end, she shit herself on stage.

I didn’t regret it.

No mercy.

english lit majors don’t fuck around