Vworp Vworp, Motherfuckers!
Karis, born on the 9th of October, '94. Pagan, pansexual and slightly elitist fantasy/horror writer with a cat problem.

*UPDATE* This is no longer a primarily DW blog. I'm keeping the theme and URL as a memorial to the show I used to genuinely love, but which has been ruined by a certain showrunner who shall remain nameless. RIP, Doctor Who. You were once great.

This blog is now dedicated to the following: Welcome to Night Vale, classic horror, HPL/Mythos stuff, Hannibal, Harry Potter, dumb literature and history jokes, Pagan stuff, stupid puns and bands I like.



POLICE TELEPHONE
FREE
FOR USE OF
PUBLIC
ADVICE & ASSISTANCE OBTAINABLE IMMEDIATELY
HOVER TO OPEN

1 2 3 4 5 »
death-the-pale-horseman:

jaackles:

tardis-mind-palace:

chainedtoacomet:

When Dean Winchester finally dies (for good, this time), Death takes a holiday. 
He spends a week going to every fair and carnival in the continental US.
He eats every deep fried concoction possible.
When his holiday comes to an end, he goes to Heaven and knocks on the pearly gates with the head of his cane. He asks to speak with Dean Winchester.
Dean is surprised to find Death there when the angels bring him forward. Death swore that their last meeting, when Death personally escorted Dean’s soul to Heaven, would be the final time they ever saw one another.
“I found it,” Death tells him. “The perfect pie. It was in Muncie, Indiana. Apple, with a flaky, golden crust. The ratio of cinnamon to sugar and its balance with the tart Granny Smith…. it was just perfect. Divine, even.”
Dean stares at Death, unsure of why he is telling him this, but then he looks down. In Death’s hand is a wrinkled, white paper bag. Inside the bag is a slice of the perfect pie.
Dean takes the bag, mystified.
“Thanks for the pickle chips that time,” Death says, then disappears into the void.

did you just give me Death/Dean bromance feels

#And Dean turns back and walks back into the gates#He treks up an inclined road until it flattens and curves around#When he reaches his heaven Dean raises a free hand above his head and yells #’SAM#CAS #LOOKIT! PIE!’ (x)

death-the-pale-horseman:

jaackles:

tardis-mind-palace:

chainedtoacomet:

When Dean Winchester finally dies (for good, this time), Death takes a holiday. 

He spends a week going to every fair and carnival in the continental US.

He eats every deep fried concoction possible.

When his holiday comes to an end, he goes to Heaven and knocks on the pearly gates with the head of his cane. He asks to speak with Dean Winchester.

Dean is surprised to find Death there when the angels bring him forward. Death swore that their last meeting, when Death personally escorted Dean’s soul to Heaven, would be the final time they ever saw one another.

“I found it,” Death tells him. “The perfect pie. It was in Muncie, Indiana. Apple, with a flaky, golden crust. The ratio of cinnamon to sugar and its balance with the tart Granny Smith…. it was just perfect. Divine, even.”

Dean stares at Death, unsure of why he is telling him this, but then he looks down. In Death’s hand is a wrinkled, white paper bag. Inside the bag is a slice of the perfect pie.

Dean takes the bag, mystified.

“Thanks for the pickle chips that time,” Death says, then disappears into the void.

did you just give me Death/Dean bromance feels

   (x)

image

24 minutes ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 51,703 notes

trouble-follows:

good advertising

1 hour ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 16,905 notes

flyingdinosaur:

the most depressing part of the day is watching as the sky gradually gets darker and knowing that you have done absolutely nothing productive

1 hour ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 141,398 notes

realniggaannouncements:

Man take as many risks as you can in your early 20’s. Go take a year off from school, Travel if you get a chance, Get a Job, have sex with your co worker and then quit that job, Fight your mail man. Like your 20’s is generally the time for you to irresponsible shit so just do it

but don’t do crack tho

1 hour ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 437 notes

shadowstep-of-bast:

imagine a muggleborn in hogwarts starts singing Bohemian Rhapsody under their breath and then another muggleborn notices and starts singing along

and then suddenly all the muggleborns in the area are belting out the lyrics and head banging and every single pureblood is left utterly confused

1 hour ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 9,710 notes

f1rstperson:

daftalchemist:

do not get me started on Night Vale headcanon or fic or whatever related shit where the premise is someone not having air conditioning or having their air conditioning broken that doesn’t end in emergency repairs or a trip to the hospital for heat stroke…

I grew up with 40C summers and let me tell you if the AC goes down you are not fucking, you are filling a bath with ice.

1 hour ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 33 notes
itscalledfashionlookitup:

itscalledfashionlookitup:

echarping:

I want everyone to know that this was taken by a white male.

yes unfortunately i am indeed a white male

for now

itscalledfashionlookitup:

itscalledfashionlookitup:

echarping:

I want everyone to know that this was taken by a white male.

yes unfortunately i am indeed a white male

for now

1 hour ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 157,037 notes

radsocfem:

Pretty sure that me and like maybe 100,000 other people have been belting/silently singing in our minds/quietly mutter-singing “where’s your mother, fall down dead, dirty mind, dirty mouth, pretty little head” for the past 24 hours or so…

dude get on spotify or smth because eliza rickman is a fucking goddess and I have been playing her music for two days

2 hours ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 13 notes

otterlogic:

My favorite moment in A Story About Them.

2 hours ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 808 notes
chapscherofnightvale:

My headcanon for The Man Who Is Not Short and The Man Who Is Not Tall

chapscherofnightvale:

My headcanon for The Man Who Is Not Short and The Man Who Is Not Tall

2 hours ago on April 17th, 2014 | J | 54 notes