Anderson Cooper continues to pretend he doesn’t understand his own dirty jokes.

Normal people: *says something with a double meaning* What? That only had one meaning. I meant it in a totally non-dirty way.

Anderson Cooper: *says something with only one, dirty meaning* What? That has zero meanings. … I don’t even know why I said that.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

“I am theenking per’aps Dominique,” said Fleur in her liquid silver tones, one hand pressed absently to her belly while the other stretched up to shelve the products of their grocery-shopping and gardening. Four swollen red tomatoes, a bar of chocolate, a jar of Molly’s favourite tea. Outside Shell Cottage the ocean swirled and roared.
Bill strode in with a small shovel and an easy grin. “Sœur Sourire? You always manage to surprise me, love.”
His pronunciation was (vell, ever so nearly) flawless. And he had recognised the name. Of course they had watched The Singing Nun with Vicki half a dozen times, but still she had to press a small smile into her sleeve, hiding her delight to reply, “You could ‘ave just said you do not like eet. No need for zis fussing about.”
“I never said that.” His murmur was quiet in her ear, and suddenly there were arms wrapped around her. She fought with the cabinet door for a moment before giving in and relaxing back into the embrace. Still she kept her eyebrows playfully raised.
“You ‘ave not answered my question. You know zat if you do not vant another French name…”
“I,” he said, placing kisses along her ear, “adore your French names.”
She felt rather than saw Victoire toddle in on her chubby legs. “Mama? A bird is in our garden.” There was a pout in the child’s voice, and when Fleur peered over her husband’s shoulder she saw her daughter’s arms were crossed. “I think he is eating all the beans.”
If Fleur’s laugh was bells, Bill’s was a distant avalanche, the creaking of a ship.
“He just wants the worms,” said he, but Fleur disengaged herself from his hold and went to run a hand through the child’s red-gold ringlets.
“I vill come see.” Halfway out the door she turned back to her husband. “And zat is all very vell for you. I vas going to say zat if you do not want another French name, zen I vill divorce you, and too bad!”
The smile she flashed him was extra bright as she spun around again and drifted out the door, one palm over her unborn child and the other grasping the wrist of Victoire. He watched her go with a can of peas in his hand. Music floated behind her as she sang:
”En tous chemins, en tous lieux,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu,
Il ne parle que du Bon Dieu.”

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Take your time.

l1br4:

finejeeze:

letsallbrotogether:

popionopio:

namethief:

My Horcruxes

Well played. 

I’m in tears

Oh I don’t think that last one will be a problem.

fuckIGN CHRIST

HPMOR, anyone?

deanspelvis:

itwasheavenlydays:

j-tondo:

the best rings are the ones that mean something. the silver on these rings rub off after time, and reveals the 18 karat gold ring beneath the silver.
the point of the ring is to show that the longer love lasts, the more powerful and beautiful it is.

That’s pretty dope

FUTURE ENGAGEMENT RING? I THINK SO!

that’s fuckin’ cool dude

Or they could do this for the One Ring. Like, choose the right metals for the time frame, and then when a certain amount is exposed, you know you’ve had it long enough and you should hand it to another party member before you go batshit crazy. xD

(Measure it off by arc length or something. Little markings or symbols hidden under the top layer…

I’ll stop now.)

When I ask my dad for help with a calculus problem.