my grandma sent me a picture of my dog with his new xmas present and i need a fucking inhaler LOOK AT HIM
oh to feel a fraction of the unbridled joy he is experiencing
YOURE ALL SO MEAN TO MY BOY
I drew your boy
HOLY SHIT
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Kiana Khansmith

#extradirty
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Cosmic Funnies
d e v o n
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h
macklin celebrini has autism
AnasAbdin
Not today Justin
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
art blog(derogatory)
KIROKAZE
Xuebing Du
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
One Nice Bug Per Day
dirt enthusiast
todays bird
taylor price

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@shippyrexrex
my grandma sent me a picture of my dog with his new xmas present and i need a fucking inhaler LOOK AT HIM
oh to feel a fraction of the unbridled joy he is experiencing
YOURE ALL SO MEAN TO MY BOY
I drew your boy
HOLY SHIT
I like high school sterek Aus as much as the next person but no one is writing Derek as whipped as he would be.
Yall remember him with Paige?? Remember when she politely sassed him and he immediately like her??? Yeah
Now imagine that with stiles “I shove a wolfsbane wrapped bat up your—”. Derek would have been a goner. Stiles would have given him the most Heinous tongue lashing and Derek would have had proposed on the spot.
Peter: are you drawing yours and stiles wedding invitations??
Derek: No, that’s our joint tombstone
Peter: my mistake
Also supernatural highschools aus, you will forever be special to me. I need more. I need the hale pack solving a murder mystery in their high school like the scooby doo gang
Happy Pride!
Every pride, you must reblog this. No exceptions
I love that four different people on my feed scheduled this joyous person to reblog by 8am on June 1. I look forward to seeing this a dozen more times today.
When you realize Talia could've erased Paige from Derek's memory but didn't because she didn't want her son to forget his first love
Omg this is SUCH a grandma thing. She’s totally okay with them being queer, she’s just upset that she can’t feed them her world-famous ham.
“Honey, you’re so thin! Are you eating enough at home? I really don’t agree with this whole ‘vegetarian’ thing, I’m worried about my grandbaby not getting enough protein!!!”
toads riding snake
they took midnight train goin anywhere
*whistle*
i don't know if its physically possible to ignore the dog
The Mayfair Content™
*looking for a midnight snack* *gets flashbanged*
The real problem with books-turned-movies isn’t “omg they didn’t include every single word in the book” it’s “omg they completely overlooked the main theme, threw out any significant allegories, took away all the emotional pull, an turned it into a boring action movie with a love triangle in it”
"Elk Centaur" by Francois Lelong
Stevens Point Sculpture Park, Wisconsin, USA
So, a hipster walks into a coffee shop....
It’s called “The Chilly Bean.” And it’s packed.
In a far, dimly-lit corner, someone sways in front of a microphone, sticcato-ed lyrics dripping from their mouth like molasses:
brand new pen means i gotta break-it-in means lots of ram-bl-ing about no-thing in par-tic-u-lar
*snap*
The hipster orders a tall coffee with an intricate slough of flavors and shots of espresso, but the barista merely pops their gum, continuing to wipe out a mug, bold, black words screaming from it’s porcelain skin:
be the change you wish to see in the world.
Suddenly, everything goes quiet, and the hipster soon realizes that everyone in the room…
…is staring.
“You’re not a hipster, you’re too mainstream,” someone says as they sip black coffee from a recycled paper cup.
“You don’t belong here. You’re not one of us,” another says as they snap a photo and alter it on Instagram.
“Boo! You whore!” someone yells from the back, followed by another someone shushing them.
But it’s too late.
The ruse has been ruined.
“You’re not hipsters,” the genuine hipster says, a look of horror crossing their face. “You’re…You’re….”
The front door slams, and someone whispers:
“Say it…out loud.”
The hipster cowers, their made-to-look-cheap-but-really-worth-more-than-ten-outfits-combined sunglasses doing nothing to hide the dread in their color-contacted eyes.
“You’re from the other side of Tumblr,” they mutter, gaze flitting around to confirm their suspicion.
In the back corner are the Supernaturalists–the hunters cleaning their guns, picking their nails with vicious blades, and drinking El Sol. “We don’t understand that reference,” the say snarkily.
In a dark corner, candles lighting the tables to make it more romantic, are the Sherlockians, watching quietly and studiously with their cheekbones and their upturned collars to make them look cool. “No, we’re highly-functioning sociopaths,” the snap as they stick yet another nicotine patch on their arms. “Do your research.”
On the other side of the room are the Merlinites, their eyes aglow as they mutter under their breath and turn their coffees into pints of ale. “Why don’t you just go back to brushing your hair,” the ones wearing armor say absently, “or whatever it is you do all day.”
At the coffee bar are the lacrosse jersey-laden Teen Wolfians, eyebrows twitching as only werewolf eyebrows can twitch, lips quirking as only werewolf lips can quirk. “Don’t be such a sourwolf,” the lanky, geeky ones laugh as they hang on the dark, broody ones.
In the center of the room are the Avengerites; the volatile, self-obsessed who don’t play well with others, the tiny…and petty, the always angry, the ones with red in their ledger, the ones burdened with glorious purpose, the ones named “Agent,” the ants that have no quarrels with boots, the ones with 12% of a moment, the ones who aren’t scared of lightening (but also aren’t overly fond of what follows), the genius-billionaire-playboy philanthropists…and the adopted. “We understand that reference,” they clarify around a mouthful of Shwarma.
And, finally, beside the front door, which is painted a very specific shade of blue with the words “Police Public Call Box” printed neatly and boldly across the top, stand the Whovians, sonic screwdrivers whirring as they adjust their fezzes and bow-ties (insisting that, yes, they are in fact cool) before clearing their throats and painting pleasant smiles on their faces. “Hello, we’re the real side of Tumblr,” they say, their smiles widening frighteningly as they lean in closer still and whisper:
“Basically…run.”
And the hipster does.
Because can you imagine it? The clans of Tumblr banding together? What a fearsome thing indeed….
Friends, I ask you:
What would you give to be the barista at that coffee house?
OP you left out the best part
Always reblog wholesome batdad
Someone checking the “baby’s” DNA against a database. “Oh my god. That baby is a clone of Bruce Wayne.”