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cremsie:

A changeling is a creature found in folklore and folk religion. A changeling child was believed to be a fairy child that had been left in place of a human child stolen by the fairies.
A silly little comic I wanted to do in my spare time about a changeling child dropped off but the fairies forgot to do the actual swapping part. My Patreon
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gwendolencorday:

THIS GUY WAS HITTING ON ME AND MAKING ME SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE, SO I TOLD HIM I HAVE A BOYFRIEND (because he seemed like one of those guys who, whilst they don’t respect women, they do respect another man’s “claim” on a woman) AND HE WAS LIKE “PROVE IT; SHOW ME A PICTURE” SO I SHOWED HIM THE BACKGROUND ON MY MOBILE AND HE BELIEVED ME

THIS IS MY MOBILE BACKGROUND:

I TOLD HIM IT WAS A PICTURE OF MY BOYFRIEND IN COSTUME FOR A PLAY. THANK YOU OSCAR WILDE FOR GETTING THAT FUCKBOY TO LEAVE.
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allsaidanddun:

glitchcaze:

why KILL monster… when you can KISS monster…

I know it’s you Guillermo del Toro
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the-tater:

Earlier today, recently-arrived prince and intrepid explorer Findekáno, well-known harpist and first son of current High King Ñolofinwë, unexpectedly returned to camp on the back of a giant eagle while carrying most of his cousin, also current High King Nelyafinwë Maitimo.

“I was wandering around the mountains near Thangorodrim, looking for a nice place to sit down and maybe hitch a ride with a passing Orc patrol, when suddenly this great shadow descended upon me and Thorondor showed up,”  Findekáno said earlier, pointing to the giant eagle he rode in on. “He even showed me where Cousin Russandol was, which was pretty nice.”

Findekáno, fifty-second place winner of the All-Valinor Archery Competition three hundred and fifty years in a row, had been last seen setting foot in Beleriand and was rumored to have run away to search for his missing cousin three weeks ago. High King Nelyafinwë Maitimo, colloquially known as “Cousin Russandol,” disappeared when his supposedly fool-proof ambush was counter-ambushed by the Dark Lord Morgoth over a century ago.

Findekáno reportedly found his cousin hanging from one hand on a mountain and was about to prove his archery skills when the Eagle suggested he use a melee weapon instead. Findekáno, who placed ten thousandth in the All-Valinor Knifework and Lockpicking Competition a hundred and twelve years in a row, apparently missed his blow, hitting his cousin in the wrist instead of the chain he’d been aiming for.

“It was a good blow,” Findekáno insisted. “I managed to take off his hand in one cut, which I’ve never been able to do before. And I didn’t even drop the knife! Thorondor managed to catch Cousin Russandol, although he accidentally swallowed his hand, so I guess they’re not reattaching it anytime soon. And Thorondor was so sorry about it he even offered to give us a ride home!”

Thorondor, colloquially known as the greatest of Eagles and quite possibly the hand of the King of the Valar in Middle-earth, added that he would love to give more rides to Noldor, especially those who are “going hunting or expected to lose a limb or two in the near future.” 

He then added, “I would like to clarify that we are not a ferry service, however, and should not be ridden lightly. Also, no journeys longer than three days.” To summon Thorondor, just go to an open field with at least a hand’s worth of meat and shout his name until he responds.

Neither possibly-still-current-High King Nelyafinwë Maitimo, nor any members of his court, could be reached for comment.

@greenekangaroo @urloth
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coolcatgroup:

issabella:

writing-prompt-s:

You swerve to avoid a squirrel. Unknown to you, the squirrel pledges a life debt to you. In your darkest hour, the squirrel arrives.

You are driving when suddenly a cat darts out in front of your path. You quickly weave around him and all is well. Then one day you are walking out to your mailbox, when a car flys too close to you. All of a sudden you feel a force tripping you backwards, away from the car and out of harms way. The cat has returned to repay you. He squints at you then vanishes.
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gokuma:

familiaralien:

thesylverlining:

amelia-laelia:

amelia-laelia:

The best feeling is after a long day taking off your bra and letting the beasts be free.

OK WOW I MEANT BREASTS NOT BEASTS THEY ARE NOT SOME MYTHICAL CREATURE I KEEP TRAPPED UNDER MY SHIRT

well i know what i’m calling my boobs now

RELEASE THE BEASTS

FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM

@funkzpiel @elenothar
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when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. when your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. then the books will return, and not before.
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materassassino:

galviron:

this…is advanced brittish….

*weeping* finally… a reason to be proud of this damn country
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leupagus:

kereeachan:

So since Mark Hamill is the king of voicing amazing evil characters, I have the headcanon that after the Battle of Endor part of Luke’s job for the alliance was making voice calls to various moffs and other ranking imperials pretending to be a recording of the Emperor saying THEY were in charge of the Empire if he died and letting the infighting speed up the imperial collapse.

Luke: Urgh, Leia, do I really have to do this?

Leia: I’m sorry Luke, you’re just too good at sounding evil.

Luke: Fiiiiine. *puts on incredibly evil voice* Hello, Grand Moff…

Han: *whispers* That is just freaky.

Chewie: *nods*

This is the best headcanon I’ve ever heard in my life

@lectorel
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teal-deer:

joisbishmyoga:

ladyshinga:

behold, my favorite realization today. once i realized it, the text had to go on a picture so it’s internet official now

Conversely, every margarita is a perfect summoning circle.

That’s because they’re full of spirits.
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cafemusain:

i stroll into heaven straight chillin and i look around. i know he is here. i must find him. i must ask him the question that has haunted me all my life.

when i finally find him, victor hugo, i walk up and take him roughly by the lapels.

“COMMENT S’APPELLAIENT-ILS, LES AMIS DE L’ABC? DISEZ-MOI MONSIEUR JE VOUS EN PRIE!“ he looks at this screaming lady, baffled. "JE DOIS SAVOIR MONSIEUR HUGO,” i implore.

he sighs gently and pats my hand.

“ils s’appellaient jean.”

“… les tous?”

“les tous, mon enfant.”

“vous etes le pire, monsieur hugo,” i spit bitterly, and let forth a cry that shakes the heavens: “THEY WERE ALL NAMED JEAN”
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japhers:

things I think about at night

incubi who are all about the sex part but get really embarrassed when talking about cuddling and cute things

ace people chilling with lust demons because they’re immune

WHY WOULD YOU TRY SUMMONING A DEMON FOR FUN THO NEVER DO THAT AGAIN
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referencees:

This is my favorite vine ever i will never let it die
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beyonic:

redvelvetnegro:

weloveshortvideos:

so cute

the age old tale

oh my god…
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deadcatwithaflamethrower:

thebibliosphere:

quinfirefrorefiddle:

kaylapocalypse:

lesmiserabelles:

i want a modern-accent-accurate version of the arthurian myth. guinevere with a welsh accent, arthur with a midlands or northern accent, lancelot’s french, all the orkneys are scottish…

how much better would mordred be as a character with a scottish accent?

“a asked ma maw if arthur was ma da or ma uncle an she went tae me ‘yes’. a canny deal wi this am gonnae blow the whole kingdom up tae fuck”

I’m crying. I’m going to screenshot this and send it to my professor

@thebibliosphere Have you seen this?

I have and I love it. It reminds me of Scottish twitter and that one tweet about wrapping yourself in aluminum foil like a baked potato and crawling in the microwave and blowing yourself up. Which honestly just spoke to me on such a profound level that all I could say was “same”.

I want the thing. I am laughing in a hospital waiting room and I WANT THE THING!
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anal-sneeze:

A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?”
The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound.
The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way.
Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery.
The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier.
The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man says, “All right, all right. I’m *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?”
The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.”
The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.”
The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.”
The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.”
The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny. May I have the key?”
The monks give him the key, and he opens the door.
Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.
The man demands the key to the stone door.
The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby.
He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.
Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire.
So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.
Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.”
The man is relieved to no end.
He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.
But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk

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