Just Some Lads, Being Fellows

Source: mr.kitters.the.cat

I can't draw guns, but anyway, here :)

You stare at the skeletal figure in full tactical gear, rifle held nonchalantly in his hands. “I got tired of chasing the runners,” Death says, “This seemed easier.”

de gauche à droite:Lyry,Star Moon,Lyly

from left to right:Lyry,Star Moon,Lyly

pour ceux qu'avait pas compris(moi non plus je m'était pas comprise au début)

for people who didn't understand(don't worry,I hadn't understood me either)

When a body part falls asleep

This little asshole keeps getting into a bird feeder, so we need to test how small is *too* small

3 inch opening: no problem

2.75 inch opening: Easy

2.5 inch opening: doing fine

2.25 inch opening: Bit of a struggle, but as Mr Meeseeks says: CAAAN DOO!

2 inch opening: Alright, lets try chewing the opening a bit, As long as we get the nuts into the mouth (huhuhu) we good I guess…

Uh-oh… Steve is getting greedy

:insert grunts of effort here:

Taking a break…

The guy who made the original video decided after a long struggle to help Steve out.

A New Challenger approaches!

1.75 inchs: Quote Mr Meseeks: “OOOHHH HE’S TRYING”

GIMME GIMME GIMME

He ends up giving up.

Source: Chris Notap - Squirrel ● literally ● bites off more than he can chew ! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sS4ach0CwN4

via imgur

Don’t worry world the only kind of predator I want to be is from the movie Predator

Dear friends of Tumblr,

Today at my school we had an assembly about internet predators and when I had said that most of my true friends are over the internet and they gave me a lecture about how “I don’t know who I’m talking to” blah blah. So please, if you aren’t a predator in any way, please reblog so i can prove a point.

i’ve mentioned this here before, but it will remain one of the most ideologically influential experiences of my life: when i was in fifth grade i did a report on post traumatic stress as manifested in veterans of the vietnam war, and my father did me the huge favor of connecting me w/ a vietnam vet friend of his who was diagnosed with PTSD, assuring him that while i was only ten i was bright and curious and he should be as honest with me about his experience as possible. 

i remember entering his office with my tape recorder, sitting in a chair that was too big, and asking him questions about war, and his life after war, while swinging my legs over the edge of the chair. i remember being very, very quiet as he spoke of pulling the car over on the highway for fear of crashing when his hands would shake uncontrollably in response to song on the radio or a smell that he couldn’t be sure was real or sense-memory. and of ruined relationships and anger and american hypocrisy. 

and i also remember that was the day i learned what “valor” meant. he used “valor” in a sentence and i didn’t know that word, and when i asked him to explain “valor” he became very quiet. and i can’t remember precisely what he said, if he ever offered me the dictionary definition or not, but i do remember him looking very sad, and saying something about our country’s idea of “valor”, and also something about a broken promise. and there was an edge to his words that i couldn’t parse at the time that i would later come to understand was bitterness, that he sounded bitter. 

to this day i can’t hear or read the word “valor” without seeing sunlight coming through his office window at a slant, close-to-sunset light, and feeling the kind of quiet, confused, completely internalized panic a child feels when they sense that a grown up is trying very hard not to weep in their presence.