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September 20 2015

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areyoutryingtodeduceme:

The Kiss (x)

(aka Gold Leaf is the worst and I never want to look at it again)

artemisgarden:

gabsygabs:

when theres drama on tumblr but you have no idea whats going on

image

This is hysterical

intern-gershwin-palmer:

spacetwinks:

turns out you’re wrong, sherlock holmes. i don’t do any kind of farming or professionally take care of dogs or anything you said. i threw on all this shit to see which and how many wild assumptions you’d make about me from one random glance, like an asshole. and you did. you made so many assumptions about my life just by taking one look, you asshole. here’s an assumption for you: sherlock holmes is a huge jackass

this is exactly what an arthur conan doyle self insert would look like

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i-dontknow-ok:

medic981:

vintage-and-whatnot:

Okay so science side of tumblr help me out, because I thought the rapture was happening this morning

Those are Kelvin-Helmholtz billow clouds. Its the air equivalent to sea waves rolling to the shore. Very beautiful and quite rare.

Woah

September 13 2015

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jacquiedoyle:

crow birbs

September 12 2015

The paladin, misspelling 'ascetic'...

outofcontextdnd:

“This is Ynye, an aesthetic monk…”

“Follow for more soft Buddhism.”

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official-deutschland:

*scheißpostet*

September 09 2015

Petition for any game with boob armour to also feature dick armour.

domhnall-na-feanaig:

typicalfae:

domhnall-na-feanaig:

mailidhonn:

domhnall-na-feanaig:

mailidhonn:

domhnall-na-feanaig:

Omfg DÒMHNALL

STOP

DÒMHNALL STOP I AMF AT WOWKR

Ok…………….



For the beach.

texas hold 'em

dorfs:

texas: *holds ‘em*
‘em: *is hold*

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bevismusson:

Reposted just for A) how smug the blue whale looks and B) the human on the crocodile one.

thatsadifferentstory:

A patronus, Harry tells Hermione, is acing a test and the warmth of a butterbeer between your hands. It is your friends holding you when you fall, and Ron’s sparkling eyes when you whisper hi. And there’s an otter, swimming, and Hermione is blushing.

A patronus, Harry tells Ron, is Ginny’s shaky smile lighting up the world at the end of second year. It is winning the Quidditch World Cup, unwrapping yet another knitted jumper, and your startled surprise at the sight of Hermione punching Draco in the face. And there’s a dog, chasing the otter, and Ron is laughing.

A patronus, Harry tells Luna, is the feeling of starlight on your skin and grass between your bare toes. It is snow melting through your fingers, the magic your mother used to make, something singing in your heart when you stare at the impossible. And there’s a hare, jumping, and Luna is shining.

A patronus, Harry tells Cho, is Marietta shouting the lyrics of her favourite song, dancing in the rain during a storm. It is the look on Cedric’s face when he saw you at the Yule Ball, his hand holding yours and never letting go. And there’s a swan, sliding, and Cho is crying.

A patronus, Harry tells Seamus, is Dean’s funny expression when he is about to burst into laughter and the sound of a explosion that turns out right. It is the fireworks, bright flowers blossoming in the night sky; and the fire burning in your lungs as you fly. And there’s a fox, running, and Seamus is smirking.

A patronus, Harry tells Ginny, is the world expanding underneath you and the wind playing with your hair. It is dancing and laughing until there are tears on your cheeks, Molly’s disapproving voice and Arthur’s amused eyes after one of the twins’ pranks. And there’s a horse, flying, and Ginny is grinning.

A patronus, Harry thinks, is that weird feeling that lives in his chest when the Room of Requirement glows silver, speaking of times when the world was golden.

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dharmagun:

nubbsgalore:

photos by franz schumacher in strohgaeu, germany

not good for the hay but really good for my brain

satanrulesmylife:

ojiisanholic:

facingthewaves:

“I want to speak to a manager,” the middle-aged woman said in her stern I-used-to-be-a-soccer-mom-ten-years-ago voice, looking down at me over the top of her Gucci reading glasses.

A wicked grin split across my face and the gates of Hell opened up behind me, releasing a gust of hot wind that whipped my apron around my body and forced the woman to shield her face. Demons came forth, dancing around in flames with songs of, “She wants to speak to a manager. Did you hear that? She wants to speak to a manager!” before erupting into earsplitting shrieks of laughter, none louder than my own cackling.

I took in the woman’s look of utter horror before my eyes rolled back into my head and I growled,

“I am the manager.”

a thing for one of my favorite posts on this site

one-of-the-queersquad

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hcandersen:

the largest manufacturer of potato chips in the country of Denmark is now selling Meme Chips, complete with black-bordered white Impact font

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transdaryldixon:

thinkin about how when i was 16 i asked my mom to give me permission to get a sherlock tattoo and she was adamant in refusing no matter how much i begged. like…. u saved me, mom. you saved me in every way you can save another human being

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disneydorito:

WHY IS HE SO CUTE

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