19 5 / 2013
ugh mums are so annoying ‘clean ur room take out the trash im worried about your mental health why is there a dead guy in the living room’ ha ha yeah ok whatever mum
(via zintendo)
19 5 / 2013
people who can eternally fuck themselves:
- metatron
- metatron
- metatron
- metatron
- metatron
- metatron
- metatron
- metatron
- metatron
and metatron
you forgot metatron
hey what about metatron
yeah that’s a nice long list you got there going, but did you consider metatron
i know you put a lot of effort into making this list, but i can’t believe you forgot to add metatron
I expected metatron to be on here.
WHY ALL THE FUCKIN’ HATE YOU GUISE.
GEEZEUS.
…Which remind me: note to self - rewatch Dogma.
(Source: hallucifer)
19 5 / 2013
WHY DID WE NEVER TALK ABOUT THIS
Jessica Rabbit is having none of your sexual assault
(Source: jacknicholson, via dreamingofawolf)
19 5 / 2013
are you the SAT because i’d do you for 3 hours and 45 minutes
with a ten minute break halfway through for snacks
19 5 / 2013
dontblinktheangelshavecamelot:
Look! There was a fan fiction article in today’s Washington Express (a free daily I newspaper put out by the Washington Post in Washington DC)
Article credit, Beth Marlowe (Express)
Art credit, Patrick Leger (For Express)
“DAMMIT JIM”
SOBBING
(via dreamingofawolf)
19 5 / 2013
finally done the story of the “virgin” mary and her immaculate conception for my sequential art final. very happy with how this came out/that it’s finished.
this is beautiful, good job!
This is actually how I said it probably happened.
I just laughed myself into space
Sweet baby Jesus. Literally.
19 5 / 2013
And the Righteous Man spoke unto the Prophet Kevin “I present you with keys to our dwelling. Do not betray this trust with merriment and wine.”
And the Prophet replied “Fear not, for I have no one to make merry with” And the Righteous Man gazed sorrowfully at him and spake no more.
Chuck 8:23
(via drinkmasturbatecry)
19 5 / 2013
"Our designer is amazing. By the time I put on the wig, the corset and the belt that squeezes out your lungs, I’m already uncomfortable and slightly angry."
(Source: irishtimes.com, via drinkmasturbatecry)
19 5 / 2013
Bless SPN for this scene. Bless Carver for turning the audience’s own preconceived notions on their head. Bless him for the archery symbolism that ties neatly back to not only the theme of hearts, but also Artemis whom we saw fall in love inappropriately according to the precepts of Olympus. Bless the two plaid-wearing, bearded scruffy men who are stand-ins for Hunters and Dean’s notion of über masculinity who also fall in love, but this time with heaven’s express and noteworthy nudge. Bless this rare (the cupid did say her arrows were being directed less and less frequently) and heaven-mandated event to be one of the last things heaven does before it stops meddling in the affairs of humans. Bless this event for happening in front of Dean and Cas. Bless Cas for his nonchalance and easy acceptance and Dean’s pause of consideration. Bless this neon sign toward Destiel becoming definitively canon.
19 5 / 2013
“Something happened,” He says, and a coffee shop really wasn’t an ideal setting to bleed amber eyes like that, but Stiles does it anyway; something solemn lining his mouth. “Something bad.”
It wasn’t like Derek hadn’t known. The coffee shop had reeked like something recently turned, bred with the tension of anxiety. Intermingled with Stiles; it was a dangerous concoction. It was more-so wistful thinking on his part that what was striking him in the face wasn’t actually true. A faux-pas. A fluke.
The message is clear, but Stiles was speaking anyway, eyes closed because he knows what they look like - could read it off Derek’s face.
“You can’t.”
“Stiles -” Derek starts, because it’s Stiles. But the boy shakes his head fiercely, his jaw a hard-line of pure clench.
“No. You don’t do that to them. Not because of me.”
And in his head, Derek could see it. The foolish child in red, touching trees as he makes his way along the path, and the wolf drenched in ink to bleed away into the night happening upon him. Just one quick punch of the teeth, and it’s done. Did Stiles scream? There’s another question dangling at the back of his head, but he knows the answer.
Despite his better effort, Stiles would go if they called. One Alpha calling is one thing. A whole pack of them is another. Derek’s own eyes react to the idea, face slack in a nonplussed expression, and he has to close them. So he doesn’t think, so he doesn’t look at Stiles; so he doesn’t give away his birth-nature to anyone moving around the cafe. The words fade into his mind as if they’ve been said to him aloud, white chicken scrawl on black. It’s an enticement, and a threat:
Kill them. Join us.
Or he’s ours.
(via drinkmasturbatecry)
