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I reblogged this once and found $999 on the floor.

Reblog the Money Susie and you’ll have money coming your way too 💵💵

Holy shit I just won the lottery this really works

How do you find $999 on the floor?

I Reblogged The Money Susie Thats How .

i didnt really believe in things like these but when i saw it on my dash i thought, well, why not, ive really been needing money for the new game i want to buy anyway. and i hit reblog. the next day my mom gave me $100 in CASH and when i asked her why she said that she just felt like increasing my allowance!!i dont know if shes going to keep on giving me $100 allowance so im reblogging again just to make sure

Fuck it

Does it work?!!! Or is it a fraud?!

Those Who Question The Money Susie Will Suffer 500 Million Years Of Debt

Cant Risk It


save me, money susie
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And I thought my life couldn’t get any worse. More trauma. My mother was arrested and she’s the only person I have (the only person who does not abuse me). I’m old enough to live by myself but I’m only 17 and extremely mentally ill and cannot go into work unless it is sex work, which will deteriorate my health further. She did not do anything wrong, she has a morphine pump for broken disks in her back and she was charged with a DUI. I know it’s not a “big deal” but this week I’ve been admitted to a psychiatric hospital, my moms been arrested, I’ve been assaulted. If you could reblog this and please donate I would be grateful. I have no medicine, which is my cymbalta, humalog, klonopin, and lamictal. I am a type one diabetic and I will die without it. I need to try to get money for SOMETHING. ANYTHING. I cannot live like this and I don’t know when she’ll be getting out, and when she does we will have No. Money.
My PayPal is

Please..I’m so sorry for begging but I’m in such a bad situation. Please reblog even if you can’t donate.
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Things from my childhood kids today might know nothing about.




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1. Characters whose Names are Secretly Insults: 

Samwise: means “Half-wise” or “Half-wit.” He is Stupid Gamgee

Faramir: Boromir’s name means “steadfast jewel”, but Faramir’s name just means “sufficient jewel.”


Denethor took one look at baby Faramir and thought “eh I guess he exists or whatever” which is very in character

 2. Characters who Have Way Too Many Names

Examples include Aragorn son of Arathorn son of Arador heir of Isildur Elendil’s son, descendant of Numenor,  Thorongill,  Eagle of the Star,  Dúnadan, Strider,  Wingfoot, Longshanks, Elessar, Edhelharn, Elfstone, Estel, Hope, The Chieftain of the Dúnedain, King of the West, High King of Gondor and Arnor, and Envinyatar the Renewer of the House of Telcontar

Wait I’m sorry did I say “examples” pluralCuz that was all one guy3. Characters whose parents must’ve been prophets

-Frodo means “wise by experience.” His story is about becoming wise by experience-A lady named Elwing turns into a bird (geddit)

4. Characters whose families were so lazy that they copy-pasted the same first half of a name onto multiple people


Aragorn/Arathorn/Arador Éomer/

Éomund/Éowyn/ÉorlElladan/Elrohir/Elrond/Elros/Elwing/Elenwë/Elendil/Eldarion (the laziest family) 

5.Characters whose Names are Expertly Designed so that Newbies can’t Remember Who is Who and Feel Sad

All the people mentioned in number 4Celeborn, Celegorm, Celebrimbor, CelebrianAll the rhyming dwarf names in the HobbitSauron and SarumanArwen and Éowyn

6. Name so nice, you say it twice

Legoas Greenleaf: Legolas’s first name means “Greenleaf” in elvish. Legolas is Greenleaf Greenleaf (thranduil really likes green leaves ok)King Théoden’s name means King in Rohirric. Tolkien decided to name his name his king “King.” All hail King King this is what the fanbase means when we say tolkien was a creative genius with language

To be fair, Théoden is the kingliest king who ever kinged, so I’m pretty okay with this.
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“I need a million people to share this. I just went on a make a wish trip with my nephew and family. The trip started with disaster and luggage and medical equipment in Seattle which finally got to us in the middle of our cruise in the bahamas. On the trip home I sat down at gate b54 Denver. United to talk on the phone. I set my backpack down beside me. There were 2 young men sleeping right beside my chair. As my call ended, my backpack and the young men were gone. They most likely got on a plane with my pack. My camera with all our pictures are gone. I don’t care about the cash, jacket, or personal items. I don’t even care about my camera. I need the SD card back. Please please mail it to my office at. Vista ideal protein, 7201 W Grandridge Blvd, Kennewick, WA 99336. This is the only picture I have on my phone. All the Disney cruise pictures, as well as my family holiday pictures are on the SD card.”

Hey everyone, if you could boost this it would be really appreciated. 

My mom recently went along to help on a cruise with my cousin’s children. Both kids have INAD, a rare and terminal genetic disorder. The life expectancy for those diagnosed with INAD is 5-10 years old. 

They went on a carefully planned and very difficult Make A Wish vacation, a chance for the parents to take a break and the kids to have some fun. It takes a LOT of work with kids this sick for trips like this to be possible. My mother, who loves these boys like they’re her own, went along (along with the kids’ maternal grandmother) to help with the childcare.

On the trip back on February 17, 2017, my mother was in the Denver airport at Gate B54 around 5pm Mountain Time when her bag with her camera was taken. The SD card contained all the photos from this vacation (as well as our family Christmas). 

These little boys are going to have very short, very difficult lives, and there won’t be a lot to remember them by, certainly not a lot of happy fun memories. My mom isn’t asking for any of her belongings back, not even the camera. She just needs the SD card. 

She’s not looking to press charges or get anyone in trouble. We don’t know if the pack was taken on purpose or by mistake, and we don’t care. We would just really, really appreciate it if the SD card was returned.

Thank you and please boost. 
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By Anneliese Photography Heidi Spiegler

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How I want my bank account to look like by 25.

Claiming it.

Waaaaay up 🙏🏾

11:11am on the receipt.

Reblog for prosperity, and success. May you always have what you need.

That’s what I’m saying

In other words, this is the ATM receipt, reblog and money will come your way.

Doesn’t hurt to try.


Please lord.

If it’s in my bank account I’m taking it and running.

I need this shit


In Jesus name

What the fuck. Like seriously what the fuck. 
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keep reblogging this white people are getting mad

I’m white and I’ll never not reblog it because there’s no lie here


We are exasperating.
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I have a major examination in a few days, and most of my attention, by necessity, is focused on that at the moment. In the meantime, I get to plan and worldbuild; the story/worldbuild’s subtitle, in my head, is ‘How Theseus Scamander stopped being an overprotective brother in favor of becoming and even MORE overprotective brother and uncle. And also co-Dark Lord, brother to Dark Lord, and son of a Dark Lady.’

…just so you know, Theseus plays a VERY small roll in the story/ficlet.
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I really. really. want to write a Supernatural fic, circa Season 5-ish (as that’s where I’m at), which is a crossover with the Coldfire Trilogy. Because all this talk about God being missing/dead/whatever? Gerald Tarrant’s answer to that would be, “I created Him once, I can do it again. So vulk your apocalypse. Let’s get to work.”
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Headcanon: Real!Percival Graves took lessons from the Sam Vimes School of Policing.

…I now can’t stop imagining Graves displaying the classic Sam Vimes reaction whenever someone mentions ‘the divine right of kings’.

For your consideration: Picquery getting Graves to do things simply by telling him to stay out of it while counting on his immediate ‘the hell I will’ reaction.

Percival Graves. In the Congress Chamber. With the axe.

Percival Graves reading ‘Where’s My Cow?’ to the occamys every night at 6 o’clock. Percival Graves struggling with the Summoning Dark. Percival Graves defeating the Summoning Dark by being aggressively himself.

Percival Graves holding up his right hand and gravely intoning “I comma square bracket recruit’s name square bracket comma do solemnly swear by square bracket recruit’s deity of choice square bracket to uphold the Laws and Ordinances of the city of New York -”
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 Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a girl with hair as silver as the starlight.

Every day she crept out of her village and walked to the hills just behind, to watch a flock of six swans fly above her and on towards the great river. And while she watched she collected nettles and stitched them into shirts. Every night when she crept back home, her hands red and itching, there were villagers there to tend to them.

She never spoke, this girl. She hadn’t spoken a word in the six long years she had lived there.

But to each person in the village she showed kindness. To each of them, she had shared a smile, and every person who saw it knew behind the gentleness there was a sadness.

So they looked after her without question, and they hoped that one day, she would trust them enough with her secrets, trust them enough to break her silence.

But she never did.

Sometimes when she was up on her hill, the children of the village ran around her, their laughter dancing in the air. She always kept an eye on them, the smile on her face, and she let them braid her hair while she worked.

But still, she never spoke.

Sometimes the young men who thought it upon themselves to give her their hearts strolled up the hill when the sun was high, baskets of food in one hand and a blanket under the other. The girl would smile and nod to them, and carry on with her task.

And still, she never spoke.

The villagers never knew what to do- but other than her hands each evening, the girl never frowned or looked hurt, she never cried or screamed. So they left her to her task- maybe when she finished it, she would speak.

The day she finished the fifth shirt, a stranger rode into the village.

A King from a distant land, one who had heard of the beautiful girl with silver hair and sorrow in her eyes. He believed himself smart enough, handsome enough to break her silence and get her to talk.

He walked up to her on the hill and sat down beside her.

Come and be my wife he said and you will never need to wear anything like this.

Her only reply was a frown.

Come and be my wife he said and you will never need to work like this again.

Her only reply was to turn back to her work.

Come and be my wife he said, and this time it was an order from a man not used to being refused.

And how could she refuse, the girl who never spoke?

He took her hand tightly in his, and stood up, pulling her down to the village where his horse was waiting.

And when the girl tried pulling back to her house, he only laughed.

You need nothing from there anymore he said.

And, tears dripping from her face as she thought of the shirts she had left behind, the girl was dragged from her home and to a Kingdom she did not know.

The swans followed. Each day on their travels she would look up, to see the six not far behind. But she could never say what she wanted- to the king that had stolen her or the swans that kept her secrets.

And when they got to the strange and distant castle, the girl was thrust into plans she had no words to stop.

What colour would you like the dress? What flowers do you like? What month do you want to wed? What vows would you-

The last one stopped the question, much to her relief, but they did not stop the other plans the King had ordered.

He loved her, he told her, he was blinded by her beauty.

But how could he love her when he did not even know her name, how could he love her when he did not know her voice? To him love was a sight, an object on his arm, and that was all he wanted- not her voice, her thoughts, her heart.

The day before the wedding, no one noticed her slip out of the castle, and run to the forest around it.

Her swans met her there, and she cried into their feathers, still careful never to make a sound. Then she met their eyes, and in her own was an apology that would never end.

Until one plucked a feather from his wing, and handed it to her.

She needed no words for this- she remembered the vow she had taken six long years ago, to never swap one life for another, but to break a curse the slow way, the long way, the way that never cursed another.

But she was as trapped as they were, more lost than she had ever been. She wanted her home back, her fire, her friends that never asked for more.

So she held her hands out, wordlessly, and the six swans filled them with their feathers.

And long into the night, she hid, her back against a tree, to make a shirt of swan feathers, not knowing if it would work.

But as the sun rose, on the day she was to become a queen, she clutched in her hand a shirt that was as soft as a cloud, and weighed little more.

She crept back up to the castle, and made her way to the King’s great rooms. No one stopped her- why would they- as she knocked on the door and was let in.

Her eyes went first to the window where she could see the swans gathering, then to the man stood by the bed. She held out her gift to him, a smile on her face- a smile she knew no man could resist.

You made it for me? He asked her, enchanted as he took it. I will wear it today, and treasure it forever.

She waved her hand to his chest, and he understood without words what she meant- to try it on now to make sure it fitted.

And he did. She turned away as he took off his shirt, and she heard his low laugh as she did. So modest, she heard him mutter as she walked to the window and opened it.

Then she turned back. She waited, worried nothing would happen.

But with seven blinding lights- one in front of her, six behind- she knew her curse had been broken.

You stole me She cried, her voice music even in anger You took me from all that I knew. You didn’t care for my sorrow, my tears, my secrets, you didn’t care for me at all. You wanted my beauty and nothing else. But here, King, is what I wanted. I wanted my voice back. I wanted my life back. I wanted my brothers back from who they were. I was so close when you took me- but you never even asked… and time was running out.

She heard the steps behind her, and hands on her shoulder

Little sister. Six voices as one, and she turned to smile at her brothers- who, for six years had been trapped in the bodies of swans- before turning back to the King.

To the only swan now in the room.

I had one more year and one more shirt to make, when you took me from my home. The curse was going to be broken forever. But you took me without asking what I wanted. So now, the curse is yours.
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Headcanon: Real!Percival Graves took lessons from the Sam Vimes School of Policing.

…I now can’t stop imagining Graves displaying the classic Sam Vimes reaction whenever someone mentions ‘the divine right of kings’.

For your consideration: Picquery getting Graves to do things simply by telling him to stay out of it while counting on his immediate ‘the hell I will’ reaction.

Percival Graves. In the Congress Chamber. With the axe.
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I love my mom.

I am risking nothing


Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

omg im so glad to se so many people love their mummy

Why’re you being mean to my mum?

goddamn it

Nope. Googled it. 15 minuets. Nope. Not taking any chances


This has 1.2 million reblogs …
Ps not riskin it

1.4 almost
ps not risking it

Fuck this post

I am sorry…

fuck u man

oh boy.. hope my followers sleepin

yup…. not risking lmao

Who tf made this? Go to hell

I hate this person who made it :(


can’t risk this
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The 3 important B’s

All of us.

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The NAACP is occupying Jeff Sessions’ office to protest his attorney general nomination

The president of the NAACP, along with a handful of other NAACP leaders, is currently waging a sit-in in Sen. Jeff Sessions’ Mobile, Alabama, office.

They are vowing to stay there until he withdraws his name from consideration as Trump’s attorney general — or until they’re arrested. Read more

follow @the-movemnt

More hardcore than i could ever be

this is how you do it!
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Guys who complain about the friendzone often don’t care about their female friends’ personal boundaries, forcing their female friends build more walls up. A good cartoon.

- submitted by Gene

why is he tearing down a wall with an axe

i hate it when your put in the friendzone and made to tear down a wall

Mr. Gorbachev…tear down this friendzone

how you gonna draw some shit that makes you look like Jack Nicholson in The Shining and still feel like you’re the victim


“I’m going to wall you up now, Fortunato.”

“Ha ha, and then what? ;) ”

“For the love of God, Montresor!”
-Cask of Amontifriendzone, Edgar Allan Poe

Incessantly, I heard a smacking,
as of some entitled dipshit whacking,
whacking on my chamber door.

Resignedly, I placed another layer,
voicing a quiet, repeated prayer,
“This dude thinks he’s a player,
but I am not a point to score,
he should fuck off and bother me no more.”

Quoth the friendzoned, “Fucking whore.”

- The Craven, by Edward Allen Bro

edgar allen bro

Oh my god

holy shit

“Nice guy!” said I, “Total dildo–nice guy still if nerd or dudebro,
Whether reddit sent, or whether romcoms tossed thee here ashore,
Barely known yet still entitled, holding now your Tom Waits vinyl,
Begging me for something primal, tell me truly, I implore
Is this–is this shit for fucking real? Tell me, tell me, I implore!
Quoth the friendzoned, “Fucking whore.”

“Nice guy!” said I, “Total dildo–nice guy still if nerd or dudebro,
By the mores that you abuse thus, by those films we both adore,
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, by stalking me through Facebook,
You have gained a twisted outlook of whom those tropes are for,
Paint a rare and radiant dream girl whilst you remain a bore,
Quoth the friendzoned, “Fucking whore.”

“Be that slur our sign of parting, creep or douche!” I shrieked, upstarting,
“Get thee back to lonely anguish and your friend’s used comic store!
Leave no white rose as a token of the lust you claim heartbroken,
Leave my scathing words to soak in! Quit the name calling of ‘whore’,
When you lust for every girl, but when they say nay they are whores!
Quoth the friendzoned, “Fucking whore.”

And the friendzoned, never scoring, still imploring, still imploring,
On some fetid old subreddit for a girl who will adore
The nicer guys and not the “douchebags”, unaware that it’s a red flag
To be his soulmate o'er him learning they both like the movie Thor
To fuck him for being nerdy even though he is a bore,
Then she says no–fucking whore.

that internal rhyme scheme is a fucking master class


I don’t reblog poetry, typically, but..


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