http://constarz.tumblr.com/

premiumchunk: armedandgayngerous: coonfootproductions: Proper...

Sat, 23 Jun 2018 03:57:20 -0400

armedandgayngerous:

coonfootproductions:

Proper punctuation is everything, people.

you: nut
me, an intellectual: boy syrup

griffin mcelroy made this product

Reblog if you’d be okay if your friend came out as transgender

Thu, 14 Jun 2018 01:41:46 -0400

jaywayup:

wtfruk:

let’s see how many transphobics we can weed out

if you can’t reblog this unfollow me right now

namingthelabrats: moonlandingwasfaked: nalukaiooc: The fire...

Sun, 20 May 2018 01:47:51 -0400

namingthelabrats:

moonlandingwasfaked:

nalukaiooc:

The fire cleanses

we aren’t build to last as a species

Game on

Video

Sat, 19 May 2018 15:26:19 -0400

bulph: themightyglamazon: tabbran: darthkres: thetrippytrip: ...

Mon, 07 May 2018 23:06:01 -0400

bulph:

themightyglamazon:

tabbran:

darthkres:

thetrippytrip:

I can’t believe they oblitered straight men like that
@tabbran please add lemon man story to this

PRESENTING LEMON MAN

That was a wild goddamn ride

god this was worth the read

juliaanoia: tabbran: tabbran: kresilvania: tabbran: tabbran...

Thu, 03 May 2018 08:25:56 -0400

juliaanoia:

tabbran:

tabbran:

kresilvania:

tabbran:

tabbran:

tabbran:

tabbran:

tabbran:

tabbran:

tabbran:

Please send me more of these memes, I need to see literally every single one of them

submitted by @artistic-cyber-cat

submitted by @zeddspectrial

submitted by @goodwiththechicken

submitted by @fedora-master96

this meme is officially called Fantasy Painting Object Labeling, thanks for that @eddrian32!

I love these so much

Video

Wed, 25 Apr 2018 22:06:10 -0400

The Hummingbird

Mon, 23 Apr 2018 23:15:31 -0400

gallusrostromegalus:

The Story of my Father’s Very Brief military career.
Content Warnings: Military, guns, hummingbirds, Profanity, Lots of Profanity, spectacular incompotence, catholicism mention, alcohol mention.
As usual, all names have been changed or redacted to protect people’s privacy.
In the fall of 1969, my Dad was hit by a car and suffered a serious concussion, causing him to miss midterms and put his grade in a hole he wouldn’t be able to recover from, as this was the days before a lot of professorial accountability. Like a sensible person, he decided to Withdraw for the semester and focus on recovering and maybe take a part-time job to pay for spring tuition, because you could do that back then.
“Son,” My grandfather asked, sitting on the couch with Dad shortly after he was discharged from the hospital. “What about your college deferment? I’m worried about you getting drafted.”
“Dad,” Dad said, filling in job applications. “I’m legally blind without my glasses! I’d be a danger to anyone around me with a gun. Even if I get drafted there’s no way in hell I’d pass the medical exam.”
“Don’t swear in my house.” Said Grandpa, under the entirely mistaken impression that the US Military was run with any sort of competence.
Literally a week later my Dad’s draft papers came in, and he reported to his local draft board, driver’s license and doctor’s note in hand to prove He Is Legally Blind Without His Glasses, only to be waved through without so much as a sideways glance by anyone resembling a doctor.
“They must be desperate.” My dad concluded when he got home that night to pack.
The news was devastating to the family, as both his parents had siblings to WWII. Grandpa was ready to beg, bribe and otherwise compromise his intensely catholic morals to get Dad out, and Grandma prayed to any available saint that would save her son from the fate of her brothers. She had quite the collection of saints in her sewing room, some forty figurines and dozens more candles and images, along with some stained glass she’d made herself of saints, landscapes and animals, including a large hummingbird that lived on the sewing room window since they’d moved into the house.
Dad pleaded with them to not do anything they’d regret, and returned to the base for basic training.
Dad’s drill sergeant was a man whose real name was “Ross” but insisted on being called “Bulldog” or “SIR!” by everyone depending on rank. Dad supposed this might have been a defense mechanism as Bulldog had an intensely jowled and acne-scarred face that did greatly resemble a fighting dog well past their prime. The image was not helped by the fact that he was constantly smoking rose-flavored tobacco in a pipe that had seen better centuries, and consequently smelled like a terrible combination of trailer park and the women’s perfume counter at Macy’s.
Bulldog was also… not great about following protocol, which is a terrible failing in a Drill sergeant, but Dad supposed at that point in the war Bulldog had become horribly depressed by the sheer numbers of young men he was sending to their deaths and had kind of stopped giving a fuck about their safety and his own.
Which lead to an incident about three weeks into Dad’s training camp when in the middle of a Weapons Qualification lesson, Bulldog pulled Dad’s glasses off and bellowed “YOU WON’T HAVE THOSE COKE BOTTLES WHEN THOSE [incorrect slurs, because there’s no such thing as an informed bigot] BLAST YOUR ASS TO KINGDOM COME.” before stomping off to go change the paper targets, leaving Dad standing there with an M-1, squinting in what he hoped was the general direction of the targets.
To give you an idea of HOW bad my dad’s vision is, I once asked him at what distance things got blurry, and he responded by taking off his glasses, putting his hand up to his face, and slowly moving it back. He stopped about eight inches from his face and nodded.
“So I can see my hand from here but I can’t distinguish my fingers. I think that green blob over there is your mother.”
“I’m in the living room.” called mom. “You’re looking at the blender.”
So it should come as no surprise that as soon as Dad heard someone shouting “Ready! Aim! Fire!” He did precisely that.
Hummingbirds are often mistakenly characterized as Delicate Little Rainbows that are a gift Direct from Heaven when the truth is they’re really Vicious Little Bastards thrown out of Hell for being too Nasty.
You would be too if you could eat nothing but frappuccinos and the occasional chicken nugget, everything around you was at least the size of a pickup truck and regarded you as a tasty snack, and you were forced to defend your fridge from not only equally vicious rivals but goddamn insects that are bigger than you are.
Being a hummingbird is awful under normal circumstances, and now there are maniacs with loud machines and projecties as big as you are stomping around and yelling and well-
At that exact moment, one of the nesting hummingbirds, having grown progressively more exasperated with the activity on the base, dive-bombed my father, hurling it’s tiny body directly into his ear and slicing the lobe up, and making him jerk slightly as he fired.
He missed Sergeant Bulldog by mere inches. Dad still isn’t sure if the Hummingbird caused him to miss or put him closer to accidental manslaughter, but it mattered little as Bulldog grabbed him by the head, shrieking in spittle-flying fury-
“ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND?” He roared.
“YES!!” screamed my father, also hysterical. “SIR THAT’S WHAT THOSE ‘COKE BOTTLES’ ARE FOR SIR!”
Bulldog stopped, suddenly and uncomfortably confronted with the nature of causality. He only let it stymie him for a moment. “GET YOUR IDIOT ASS TO THE MEDIC, I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER!”
At the medical center, an extremely befuddled doctor dilated Dad’s eyes, took pictures because Dad had the worst case of myopia he’d ever seen and wanted to put him in a medical journal, and asked him:
“What the HELL are you doing here?”
“Very nearly shooting people sir.”
“Well, we can’t have you shooting people while you’re in the army! I’ll get your medical discharge started.”
Dad decided not to comment on that statement, thanked the doctor, and wandered blindly back to his bunk.
It took them a full thirty days to process Dad’s discharge, perhaps largely due to the fact that actually FINDING the captain was a task for hercules- The man had an almost phobic aversion to his office and a tremendous love of whiskey so actually locating the man and early enough in the day that he was still sober enough to sign anything was a race against time and a battle against the wits of a man determined to get out of work, which is when humanity is at its peak intelligence.
In the meantime, it simply wouldn’t do to let dad bike the five miles back to his home and come back for the paperwork, nor let him sit quietly and not accidentally maim anyone, so he was put on garden duty.
Supervised by recently-suspended-from-instruction Sergeant “Bulldog” Ross.
By the second day Bulldog had mostly run out of steam, perhaps out of a sense of really, whose fault was that? So He would mostly stand in Dad’s general vicinity, waxing philosophical on the nature of war, government and whatever else he could be crotchety about that day while continuously smoking his rose-flavored tobacco in his pipe. Dad planted a frankly absurd number of flowers, trying to make a planted display that would spell out the name of the base in eight-foot letters, just in case someone has managed to miss all 824,594,359 signs beforehand.
On day five, perhaps attracted by the bright colors or the stench of artificial rose, the Hummingbirds found the new garden.
At first, it was timid little trips to the edge farthest from Dad and Bulldog, testing this new territory for both risk and bounty, but upon finding it full of sugary goodness, they became bold, getting closer and closer to Dad, zipping in as soon as he got up to get the next flat of flowers, then not waiting for him to finish planting them before they were up in his face, squeaking angrily for him to get out of the way of their lunch.
One male objected to Dad and Bulldog’s presence particularly strongly, dive-bombing and buzzing angrily at them, an ounce and a half of glittery impotent rage. After a month, he’d gotten quite aggressive, and one day flew directly up to Bulldog’s face to chitter curses at him eye-to-eye, only for Bulldog to take out his pipe and blow a cloud of smoke at him, laughing as the bird tumbled over backwards in midair.
Agitated with the sudden noxious cloud, or perhaps merely a violent psychopath in its own right, the bird flew back, then straight up into the air for a good fifty feet before going into a dive, aimed directly at Bulldog’s face.
Dad doesn’t recall actually moving, only a sense that he ought to do something, and launched himself out of the dirt, arms outstretched to clap and force it off course-
“SHIT! What the hell was that for?” Demanded Bulldog.
“Well, the hummingbird looked like it was going to attack you, Sir. So I stopped it.”
“How noble. What are you standing there like an idiot for?”
“…I think I caught it sir.” Said Dad, staring at the tiny bill poking out from between his gloves. The two of them leaned in close as dad very slowly opened his gloves and peered inside.
The hummingbird immediately forced it’s tiny head out to peep furious profanities at them both.
“How is it,” Bulldog wondered aloud as the hummer continued to curse the both of them for the next seven generations. “That you can’t see to hit the broad side of a barn but can pull a shitty little bird right out of the air?”
“I’m wearing my glasses, Sir.”
Bulldog looked up at him, glaring with such intensity his face ceased to be a face at all and transformed into a dali-esque collection of wrinkles.
“Fuck you. Now go take that damn thing to the other side of the base so it doesn’t come back.”
“Yes sir.” Dad nodded, nearly saluting out of reflex before remembering that he was holding a live and very angry bird. It took him several hours to get to the other side of the base, with literally everyone stopping to ask him what the hell he was doing, well I have this bird sir and I was told to release it on the other side of the base- how in hell did your blind ass catch a hummingbird, well I had my glasses on- Fuck you, go ditch that thing already.
At three o'clock on the dot the very next morning, two MPs woke up my dad and told him he needed to report to the front office right away, no time to get dressed, right away right now.
They marched him directly to the main office, barefoot and in his Pajamas to be greeted by not only Sergeant “Bulldog” ross, but nearly every officer on the base, including the lieutenant and the Captain, all of whom were… attempting to stand at attention with varying degrees of success, most weaving slightly, some snorting with poorly-concealed laughter, and the entire room reeking of booze.
“GENTLEMEN!” hiccuped the lieutenant, before shaking himself and continuing, “WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY TO HONOR OUR ‘COMRADE’ -snort, giggle- IN ARMS -louder derisive laughter- FOR HIS BRAVERY AND SERVICE IN THE FACE OF EXTREME DANGER-”
“IN THE BEAK OF EXTREME DANGER!” Howled one of the assembled officers.
“-AND FOR HIS SERVICE IN DEFENDING AN OFFICER OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY. I AM ~SO~ PLEASED THAT WE HAVE CAPTAIN [REDACTED] HERE WITH US TO PRESENT THIS MEDAL.”
He turned to the Captain, who took out a small box and motioned Dad forward. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a chocolate box from See’s Candies.
“[REDACTED], in honor of your brave and frankly improbable service in the defense of Euge- sorry, Sergeant Ross, and the capture of a dangerous wild animal, we award you this medal- The Flying Purple Bastard.”
He opened the chocolate box to reveal this*:
(Image Description: A piece of cardboard cut out approximately in the silhouette of a hummingbird, by someone with only a passing familiarity with what hummingbirds look like. The cardboard has been haphazardly covered in tinfoil and cartoon eyes drawn on. It’s attached to a scrap of ribbon and a safety Pin.)
Which was then pinned crookedly to Dad’s nightshirt, after accidentally stabbing him a bit, saluted him as someone attempted to play the bugle but made a rather melodious farting noise instead, then slapped Dad in the face with a manilla folder full of papers and shouted. “DISMISSED!”
“Dismissed, sir?”
“Those are your discharge papers.” Said Bulldog. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Yes, Sir!”
At which point Dad biked home in the rain, and thus ends my father’s military career.
*Pictured here is actually The Flying Purple Bastard 2.0, as the original was destroyed when partially eaten and fully regurgitated by one of the cats.
If you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Paypal, as due to health concerns, telling funny stories on the internet is my ONLY means of income. Thank you!

shadows-ember: reperspectivity: michuno: amberhamster: fgfdgfgf...

Mon, 16 Apr 2018 03:18:29 -0400

shadows-ember:

reperspectivity:

michuno:

amberhamster:

fgfdgfgfgfh

Source?

@michuno

I believe this is from Ghost Stories. The series didn’t do too well in Japan, so when it was translated and dubbed in English, the VA studio was given a rough outline of the plot and were told to do ‘whatever’.

They ran with that.

She’s both…she’s a ghost AND a bitch.

cleoselene: lord-blongus: scp2008: amuzed1: saito-91: thena...

Mon, 16 Apr 2018 01:35:12 -0400

cleoselene:

lord-blongus:

scp2008:

amuzed1:

saito-91:

thenamesdiondra:

cynosurecosplay:

batter-sempai:

sueanoi:

pardonmewhileipanic:

bankuei:

meqabitch:

theryanproject:

futureblackpolitician:

cloacacarnage:

i know its the mets, but this is the coolest shit i’ve ever seen a human being do

Wtf????

Smoove with it too

This is the kind of shit you see in anime that shows that a certain character is stronger than other characters.

“Pathetic. You can’t even hold the bat you dare step to the plate? Have you no respect for the sport?”

reminds me of this gif

Baseball players are to be feared

Reblogging for the last one

^Same for me

They just kept getting progressively more “woah”

much woah

Oh my god this is a lucky universe

every time this post comes around, my favorite part is the “I know it’s the Mets” qualifier at the beginning lmao like how baseball that this zillion note posts starts with “sorry for putting this hellteam on your dash, bUT”

otherwindow: otherwindow: toloveviceforitself: otherwindow: otherwindow: i don’t know what’s...

Sun, 08 Apr 2018 18:25:40 -0400

otherwindow:

otherwindow:

toloveviceforitself:

otherwindow:

otherwindow:

i don’t know what’s cooler tbh:

Demon horns being broken halos from when they were angels.

Demons willingly grow their own halos, but never complete the circle to symbolize their rebellion against heaven’s strict order.

In addition to the second one, angels are GIVEN their halos rather than earning them. Demons like Lucifer rebelled for freedom and individuality, thus demon horns all look different compared to an angel’s boring halo.

Horns are useful tools, but if you join them into a circle they become useless badges of authority.

And the thing about wearing a badge is that you become a symbol of someone else. You’re not you, you’re an extension of the entity whose authority you’re borrowing. You can’t be yourself until you ditch it

Here’s a visual representation of angels and demons.

I figure that as angels, their “horns” would glow when connected to become traditional halos. However, this blinds the angel with heavenly light, making the angel rely on God’s guidance.

Angels who break their halos become demons, and willingly grow their horns in obscure shapes so it won’t connect back into a halo. Because the halo no longer blinds them, demons can finally see but can no longer communicate with God for guidance – the light they once gave to heaven now belongs to them, hence demons being proficient with fire allowing them to see in the dark.

Extra notes on horns & halos:

Circular horns (Halos) are smooth and easy for God to “grab” like a chain.

Jagged horns are sharp to the touch and can pierce God.

Crucial notes I forgot to add:

The only way angels can break their own halos is through strong, direct, hard force; rebellious angels willingly fell from heaven, breaking their halos upon hitting our world’s surface. That’s why demons are called “fallen angels”.

The only thing that can hurt God and other angels is another angel, so the shattered remains of a demon’s old halo would be reformed into tridents and pitchforks commonly associated with the devil.

Regretful demons wishing to commune with God again would either try to grow their horns back into a halo, or clasp their hands in prayer to form a circle with their own body mimicking a halo. It would faintly work. These demons would become the first priests, and spread the practice to humans.

alluringalliteration: iwilltrytobereasonable: bnprime: itsreall...

Tue, 27 Mar 2018 22:46:00 -0400

alluringalliteration:

iwilltrytobereasonable:

bnprime:

itsreallystupid:

vi-is:

FIN DU GAME
J’ai découvert le plus grand secret de la saga Star Wars.

(quelqu’un sait comment mettre une image géante sur tumblr ?)

I don’t speak French but this gold

this is fantastic:
theory: darth vader eats grated cheese
argument 1. milk exists

argument 2. moisture exists
therefore: cheese exists

argument 3: vader can’t eat anything while wearing his mask and he can’t take of his mask when he’s not in his little room.

argument 4: the bottom of his mask is a cheese grater
therefore: he must use it to grate cheese so that he can eat it.

oh my GOD WHAT

This is it. This is why I spent 15 years learning french.

spazzbot: multiheaded1793: maddeningscientist: catholic-aviator: tilthat: TIL an identity thief...

Sun, 25 Mar 2018 00:18:11 -0400

spazzbot:

multiheaded1793:

maddeningscientist:

catholic-aviator:

tilthat:

TIL an identity thief stole the identity of a surgeon and while aboard a Navy destroyer was tasked with performing several life saving surgeries. He proceeded to memorize a medical textbook just before hand and all the patients survived.

via reddit.com

ok but did you follow the link

this fucker is fascinating

his impersonations included a ship’s doctor, a civil engineer, a sheriff’s deputy, an assistant prison warden, a doctor of applied psychology, a hospital orderly, a lawyer, a child-care expert, a Benedictine monk, a Trappist monk, an editor, a cancer researcher, and a teacher.

he just…. crammed from textbooks to learn how to do the things he was supposed to know

During Demara’s impersonation as Brother John Payne of the Christian Brothers of Instruction (also known as Brothers of Christian Instruction), Demara decided to make the religious teaching order more prominent by founding a college in Alfred, Maine. Demara proceeded on his own, and actually got the college chartered by the state. He then promptly left the religious order in 1951, when the Christian Brothers of Instruction offended him by not naming him as rector or chancellor of the new college and chose what Demara considered to be a terrible name for the college.^[5]^:115–119 The college Demara founded, LaMennais College in Alfred, Maine, began in 1951 (when Demara left); in 1959 it moved to Canton, Ohio, and in 1960, became Walsh College (now Walsh University).

whfsdf

do students at that university, like, know? they must, right?

He described his own motivation as “Rascality, pure rascality”.

i am… in awe.

this was an extremely powerful man

Demara told his biographer he was successful in his roles because he was able to fit into positions which no one else had previously occupied. Demara explained it in the following excerpt from his biography:

’(Demara) had come to two beliefs. One was that in any organization there is always a lot of loose, unused power lying about which can be picked up without alienating anyone. The second rule is, if you want power and want to expand, never encroach on anyone else’s domain; open up new ones…’

Demara referred to it as ‘expanding into the power vacuum,’ and described as such; ‘if you come into a new situation (there’s a nice word for it) don’t join some other professor’s committee and try to make your mark by moving up in that committee. You’ll, one, have a long haul and two, make an enemy.’ Demara’s technique was to find his own committee. ‘That way there’s no competition, no past standards to measure you by. How can anyone tell you aren’t running a top outfit? And then there’s no past laws or rules or precedents to hold you down or limit you. Make your own rules and interpretations. Nothing like it. Remember it, expand into the power vacuum!’^[5]^:

Loki_IRL

Moist, this is so Moist von Lipwig

cleoselene: lord-blongus: scp2008: amuzed1: saito-91: thena...

Wed, 14 Mar 2018 23:13:45 -0400

cleoselene:

lord-blongus:

scp2008:

amuzed1:

saito-91:

thenamesdiondra:

cynosurecosplay:

batter-sempai:

sueanoi:

pardonmewhileipanic:

bankuei:

meqabitch:

theryanproject:

futureblackpolitician:

cloacacarnage:

i know its the mets, but this is the coolest shit i’ve ever seen a human being do

Wtf????

Smoove with it too

This is the kind of shit you see in anime that shows that a certain character is stronger than other characters.

“Pathetic. You can’t even hold the bat you dare step to the plate? Have you no respect for the sport?”

reminds me of this gif

Baseball players are to be feared

Reblogging for the last one

^Same for me

They just kept getting progressively more “woah”

much woah

Oh my god this is a lucky universe

every time this post comes around, my favorite part is the “I know it’s the Mets” qualifier at the beginning lmao like how baseball that this zillion note posts starts with “sorry for putting this hellteam on your dash, bUT”

lily-peet: salty-and-slightlyspicy: lehanan-aida: ass-ume: on...

Sun, 11 Mar 2018 23:15:45 -0400

lily-peet:

salty-and-slightlyspicy:

lehanan-aida:

ass-ume:

onlylolgifs:

Hugh Herr: The new bionics that let us run, climb and dance

oh my god they did it!

This is probably the most impressive and beautiful thing I’ve seen in years.

This is amazing. As much as i joke about wanting new legs, I hope this gives amputees much wanted freedom.

Will this lead to solar powered shoes to charge your foot?

haiku-robot: interstellactic-studios-random: moonchildmax: dar...

Sun, 04 Mar 2018 13:29:42 -0500

haiku-robot:

interstellactic-studios-random:

moonchildmax:

darkersolstice:

verndariulfur:

dovewithscales:

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

jabberwock-jabberwock:

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

the-nerdy-daydreamer:

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

misunderstood-ocs:

johnnyrico:

birbiebabies:

chamfrons-checques-n-champignons:

betheothergirl:

solitarelee:

221cbakerstreet:

spookyrawr:

rassoey:

avianawareness:

aph-romania:

reallymisscoffee:

dansknapp:

stultiloquentia:

doctormemelordmd:

fangirling-so-hard-rn:

Crows are scary
They

use tools

Can be taught to speak (like parrots)

Have huge brains for birds

like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee

They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things

they are scary smart at solving puzzles

some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies

they can remember faces

SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT. They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows. Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag. But the nice guys with masks they left alone. THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight. THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.

They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.

Guys I’m really scared of crows now.
(q)

Yeah but have you seen this

A colleague of my dad’s lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. “Oh hell,” she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free.

Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,they’re bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill

I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him ‘Buck’.Well… months passed and Buck’s sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree.

Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldn’t caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well… near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped… and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before.

That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like I’d lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him.

Cut to the next spring? I’m walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound… a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree.

That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck… and one from his chick.

Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring.

that last reply made me wanna cry. that’s so beautiful.

Don’t forget the Russian Crow SLEDDING DOWN A ROOF not once, but twice.

this one morning i kept hearing really loud caws, i remember it was like 5am, LIKE REALLY LOUD AND ANNOYING AND AGGRESSIVE, so loud that i could hear it through a closed window, and i eventually went outside to check it out. there was a crow on my front lawn, it had an injury on its head and couldn’t fly and there were two other crows circling right above it, and they were cawing like mad.

i tried to get close and take a better look and one of them dived super low and tried to attack me. so i went back in the house and chopped some sliced raw meat and tossed it at him from a distance.

a few more times later, very soon after, they could tell i was trying to help, and did not attack me. i was “allowed” to walk up close and pick him up, he couldn’t drink water properly so i had to dip my finger in a bowl and stick it in his mouth.

i did this few times a day and it went on for about a week before he disappeared, i thought he recovered and left, but he came back the next day and lands on me, and i see him around the block quite often, and he would come sit on my shoulder for a few minutes and then fly away again. i feel like i’ve adopted a son.

Best birbs !!

your son is Beautiful and Strong

every time I see this post it has different crow stories and every time I reblog it again because all crow stories are good stories

Like, I wouldn’t want to be on bad terms with a crow, but they are a really smart animal, they aren’t scary You just want to be nice to them because they will know and they will remember, and they will pay you back if you treat them a certain way.

As a side note, I volunteered at a rehab (Hope for Wildlife), where they were rehabbing a crow with a broken wing–who was named Russell Crow. He kept pulling his bandage off so a sleeve was cut off some old clothing and put on him like a little sweater.

!!!!

I don’t think I’ll ever not reblog this. This posts makes me cry and smile at the same time.

@jewishmagpie

CROWS ARE AMAZING @thefingerfuckingfemalefury

THEY ARE GOOD BIRBS :D

As much as I enjoy “Planet of the Apes” I’d bet anything that if the Apes didn’t make it, the crows would evolve to take over right after them.

A Planet of the Crows would be a utopia <3

They’re good birds Brent

BEST BIRBS

Can’t not reblog.

I think that crows might have inadvertently become my favorite avian. Bless this post

@builtfjordtuff

I love crows

People ask me why my fav birb is crow, proceeds to show them this post

people ask me why
my fav birb is crow proceeds
to show them this post

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vampireapologist: cyanideending: cyanideending: relevantlyrambling: northisnotup: vampireapologis...

Tue, 13 Feb 2018 23:15:43 -0500

vampireapologist:

cyanideending:

cyanideending:

relevantlyrambling:

northisnotup:

vampireapologist:

admittedly I don’t normally like modern shakespeare adaptations but once I went to see my cousin in a midsummer night’s dream and it opened with a high schooler saying “I don’t wanna read this play” so he sits down and eats an entire chipotle burrito on stage and then immediately falls asleep and the play begins but instead of the forest the faeries all hang out in a rainforest cafe TM and at one point in the middle of a scene the guy from the beginning just slowly drifts across the back of the stage on a skateboard, staring at all the characters as the events of the play transpire in the form of some sort of chipotle-induced coma lucid dream

THAT is EXACTLY what Shakespeare would have wanted

I swear if this isn’t floating around on the internet I’m gonna cry

Oh buddy IT’S ABOUT TO BE. I am like, 98% sure this was my high school’s production and I’ve got photos and video clips like craaaazy…

Here are some fun additions… the Mechanicals were also based on the characters of The Breakfast Club (here I am below, eating an actual Captain Crunch and Pixie Stix sandwich on stage.)

…and the one on the longboard was actually our Puck - he rode it through the whole play in the background. Please note his “Forest Cafe” shirt… which we also had logos for on the cups.

…and we had both a flash mob at the end AND an interlude where myself and one of the other Fairies danced to “Sexy and I Know It” while we were cleaning up the tables at the cafe.

I will post more of this later. I have a DVD at my house and will endure cringing at myself to bring you some quality clips… there’s probably one of K eating the burrito before the start of the play, too.

@hullaballoons Here is more Ktown Lore for you

@cupcakelirry

Here ya go kids… all 2h20m. if you make it through the whole thing once, that’s probably more times than any of the cast watched this DVD. You can probably see why. Tbh if you watch this, I am sorry in advance.

Important notes:

- Chipotle burrito makes a cameo about 30 min in,

- the end has a flash mob and a “commercial” for the Forest Cafe,

- unfortunately, the lunch scene where all the mechanicals whistle like the Breakfast Club got mostly cut for some reason?

–

@vampireapologist in case you have any interest in reliving this… at the very least you can prove to any doubters that there was, in fact, a Chipotle burrito onstage.

I cannot even fully conceptualize, much less put into words, how wild this chain of events has been.

I have dozens of posts going around that have broken 50,000 notes, and plenty that have broken 100,000.

On every single one of these posts, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of comments and tags calling me a liar and the story fake, but none so much as this post.

This post was my most doubted of all.

And you came in………

with a Two and a Half Hour Long video.

I’ll never forget this.

We have a bond forged in fire and spirit now.

221cbakerstreet: consuelodoodles: bamilton: timeywimey-trenchc...

Sun, 04 Feb 2018 02:00:42 -0500

221cbakerstreet:

consuelodoodles:

bamilton:

timeywimey-trenchcoat:

dieharddaae-24601:

beauty-and-the-dark-one:

The mashup you never thought would work

Congratu-fucking-lations.

I would pay so much to have this as a ringtone I’m not even joking.

Why?????

The face I made while listening to this was so visceral I had to draw it before reblogging it

anxiouslilgay: this has an evil energy

Thu, 11 Jan 2018 18:48:58 -0500

anxiouslilgay:

this has an evil energy

whispers-and-stardust: sounddesignerjeans: You wake up one day...

Sun, 07 Jan 2018 07:01:56 -0500

whispers-and-stardust:

sounddesignerjeans:

You wake up one day and realize you’re in a parallel universe. You’re not sure what exactly is different, only that everything seems a little… off. Your suspicions are confirmed when you go with your friends to the mall and Take On Me comes on, and it sounds like this.

this song makes me feel like i’m half asleep on the bathroom floor of a 7-Eleven at 3:17 in the morning and i was trying to make my way back to my hotel took the wrong turn on the highway and i got too tired to keep searching so i just gave up.