Deux Feuilles
Tess/♀/15/♊
Dirk’s Bro

wariofan63:

MSPA Wiki’s infobox for Dirk’s Bro:

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That’s when this happened

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Happy Hetalia Reminder for April 17th

happyhetaliareminders:

Poland reminds you that the first step to being beautiful is to believe you’re beautiful! (And if anyone tells you different, he’ll enforce the Polish Rule!)

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fiddlysticker:

sugarplumbfaerie:

someone take my computer away from me

// this is like my most favoritest post. Ever.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

Cecil: We're not supposed to talk about the Dog Park.
Cecil: *talks about the Dog Park in each episode*
Cecil: We're not supposed to look at the hooded figures.
Cecil: *interviews hooded figure*
Cecil: It's dangerous to go over there, people keep going missing when they go there.
Cecil: *sends intern there*

heniousstrider:

cat-womans-whip:

loutrem:

stridelr:

john is literally me

the fuck dave

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what

a mans gotta stay limber yo

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cant just charge into battle w/o streachin’

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dont wana pull somethin’

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that’d be stupid

I’m laughing harder than I should be.

gaytectives:

invader-raz:

gaytectives:

you wanna know what pisses me off

you wanna know

the silent “ent” at the end of verbs conjugated for ils/elles

seriously

seriously let’s just add thrEE SILENT LETTERS

FUCK YOU FRANCE

its really great when learning it and they want you to listen and then write what you hear. oh im sorry i cant hear tHE TEN SILENT LETTERS TACKED ONTO THE END OF YOUR WORDS

FUCKIGN SERIOUSLY

cupsnake:

psshaw:

rotifers:

talikira:

Wolf Spiders!

Well there’s something you don’t see every day.

NOOOHOHOOHOOOOO. I’d be happy to be part of the regurgitated food-bile they’d feed their young.

OH NO BABIES

antiemetic:

petition for tavros’ severed head to become the new “you tried” reaction image

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countsassmaster:

flesh-odium-personal:

tmirai:

relina-ru:

captaingalaga:

I can’t be the only one

pain of my whole life

Omg. This speaks to my soul man.

This is the reason why 90% of my OCs are naked

swim suits, spandex suits, body tight suits= best friends

double0strider:

double0strider:

my mom just sent me this picture without any context. The fabric of tie is falling apart at the seams. 

oh my god so i did a google image search to find out where she found this and apparently there is a Nicolas Cage themed art show happening in San Francisco and just oh my god look at these:

Apparently a ton of people went to go see it too?? oh my god what has happened to the world?

8bitatoms:

phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess:

sevvey6:

morbidamusement:

captain-snark:

bananamerlin:

maderadearquitecto:

Thermochromic table by Jay Watson

imagine banging someone on that table

imagine being home alone and seeing imprints on that table

noooooo stop

Imagine having a friend sit at that table for a long while, but when they get up there’s no imprints at all.

What if you got up after trying to console a crying friend, and found that you had no imprints… and they were crying because they missed you?

aaaah it was a cool table now it’s a horror/drama story

blookisses2:

johnfreakingegbert:

Thank you stranger for making my day

It says “I warned you about the stairs bro” in alternian

nosdrinker:

this is the teacher from the incredibles

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