The actor who did this scene was PERFECT. So creepy and perfectly rhythmic, to boot!
(Source: n0t-my-divisi0n, via thumperchan)
I am in need of some new stuff on my dash. Please reblog and REBLOG ONLY if you post any of the following:
-john green stuff
-books in general
Even if you don’t post those feel free to reblog and I’ll check all of your blogs out. NO LIKES!
Had my first sonogram today. Figured some of my followers might like to see predator-goblin babies!
Baby A heartbeat and face:
And Baby B heartbeat and face:
Baby A is about 8 oz right now. B is somewhere around 9 oz. Both seemed to have all necessary parts and whatnot, so that’s always a bonus. And they’re completely fraternal twins, so no worries as to twin transfusion or tangling cords!
(Source: dr3aming-reality, via welcometocloneclub)
Hey, this is kinda like how I sleep now…
(Source: attaches, via welcometocloneclub)
I wish this was an exaggeration, I really do.
But its not
Dear lord, this is one of the most accurate posts on this site.
You forgot the ruffles.
this is me shopping
And pocketsI nearly fell asleep the last time I went shopping.
i just hate the game ‘find a shop where you don’t get mocked for checking stuff in men’s section’
OMG THIS SO HARD.
Don’t forget the fact that 80-90 percent of women’s stuff is cut for the long, lean body-type. Which I DO NOT FIT. Men’s stuff? Perfect for me!
hello yes, 911 send me an aMBULANCE
(Source: onginalmaz, via petrichorandrose)
where the fuck are the boxer briefs for ladies
just make underwear that are just like boxer briefs but without the bulgy package area in front for fuck’s sake
you don’t need to make them shiny or lacy just make them comfy and streamlined without awkward seams and maybe in some basic colours that aren’t white or that awful “flesh tone” colour
I would wear the shit out of these.
AsylumWaiting Room of the Big Three.
it’s funny because it looks like the sherlock fandom are sane here
Sherlock bustled about the kitchen, throwing a cupboard door open and pushing aside a box of nicotine patches to retrieve two mismatched mugs. A kettle whistled plaintively in the background, like it had been trying to draw attention to itself for a while now. Setting the mugs aside, Sherlock absently pulled the kettle off the stove, poured tea into the two mugs, and carried them into the living room.
Doctor Who was sprawled over the same chair it had collapsed into last night, when it had appeared at the door muttering inanely about lost regenerations and knackered navigations systems. It made a whining noise as Sherlock tucked the shock blanket it had thrown off in the night back around its shoulders.
Supernatural was in similar straits, curled up on the floor with a throw pillow and a tattered trench coat around its shoulders and alternating between sobbing and muttering about domesticity potential.
A thudding on the stairs indicated the ruckus had finally awoke Merlin, who poked its head into the room, hair sticking up at all angels as it tied its scarf around its neck. Blinking blearily at the mess, it seemed to realize what had occurred when it picked up a discarded bow-tie from the floor, holding it between forefinger and thumb, “Is it that time already?”
“It was bad this year,” Sherlock whispered, trying not to exacerbate the already fragile fandoms under its care.
“I remember what that was like,” Merlin muttered, running a hand through its hair and pulling a cape off the nearby coat rack, “I’ll go to the store. We’re out of milk again. May as well pick up some fish fingers, custard, and salt.”
Supernatural gurgled something quietly.
“No, I won’t forget the pie.”
I SWEAR TO GOD TUMBLR NEVER FUCKING CHANGE