God I fucking love being a monk at the Monastery of Lindisfarne on this fine morning of June 8th, 793. I love looking at all the gold and silver objects and alive monks that live here.

under my regime all fictional sex scenes should be about a third person who is not involved or in the room

new bit, it’s called “the wrong twin died.” any time you’re talking about an alive person who you dont like, say something like “yeah he sucks. the wrong twin died.” make up a fake story about how the person used to have a twin but the twin died tragically and they were probably nicer than the one who survived.

the biggest spider in north america just sent you a friend request on steam

I basically find crap like this hard to believe

Guys what if there was a character

you guys do realise walking doesn't actually move you anywhere right? it just destroys you entirely and places a perfect copy of you right in front of where you were standing