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draayder:

sa8oteur:

sylvanburningcenter:

THEYRE LIKE CHICKEN NUGGETS BUT FROGS????????????????????????

i’m pretty sure they’re just pregnant but ye

NO THEY AREN’T EVEN PREGNANT THEY’RE DESERT RAIN FROGS AND THEY SOUND LIKE THIS 

draayder:

sa8oteur:

sylvanburningcenter:

THEYRE LIKE CHICKEN NUGGETS BUT FROGS????????????????????????

i’m pretty sure they’re just pregnant but ye

NO THEY AREN’T EVEN PREGNANT THEY’RE DESERT RAIN FROGS AND THEY SOUND LIKE THIS 

dannyrandy:

i am constantly amazed by straight dudes but not in like a good way

dannyrandy:

i am constantly amazed by straight dudes but not in like a good way

derpycats:

My friend’s cat Chloe.
Food bowl empty…not talking to you.

derpycats:

My friend’s cat Chloe.

Food bowl empty…not talking to you.


“i made these”

“i made these”

im-jean-valjean:


inlovewithwhitemen:

iragersaurus:

silentrhetoric:

naturalbods:

Truth.

Wow.. I didn’t know that

File under : things I wasn’t taught in school

Reblog the hell out of this everyone.


It’s like you guys want to be outraged and offended.

im-jean-valjean:

inlovewithwhitemen:

iragersaurus:

silentrhetoric:

naturalbods:

Truth.

Wow.. I didn’t know that

File under : things I wasn’t taught in school

Reblog the hell out of this everyone.

image

It’s like you guys want to be outraged and offended.

twinkletwinkleyoulittlefuck:

cell-mate:

crackerhell:

ethanwearsprada:

i think it’s a universal truth that everyone in our generation takes pluto’s losing its planetary status as a personal offense

yes

pluto is smaller than russia. why did we ever even consider it a planet?

BECAUSE IT’S A PART OF OUR SOLAR SYSTEM

OHANA MEANS FAMILY

OHANA MEANS NO ONE IS LEFT BEHIND

robotmango:

at five in the morning the phone goes off and dean slaps his hand across the bedside table without looking at it, fumbling until his fingers close around his cell. he rolls onto his side and stares at it until the little screen comes into focus.

are you okay?

and then another text rolls in a second later, i’m not angry. and dean is about to type back something sarcastic, ask why castiel can’t be watching infomercials in peace like everybody else, when a third one pops up, and dean’s breath catches in his throat. his head throbs a little, and it’s not just from the shit he swallowed down last night. i’m afraid, it says. afraid for you.

don’t be, dean sends. he writes, and then deletes, not worth it, and puts his phone face down on the blanket. after a second, it vibrates. dean turns it over.

it’s only a mark. it can’t define you.

okay, dean writes. he doesn’t know what else to say. he doesn’t know whether he’s grateful or sort of sick, bone-weary, too tired and worn to feel anything at all. but he holds his phone against his chest for a second while he waits. waits, in case cas wants to say anything else. just so he won’t miss it.