Tag: THANK YOU

unwrapping:

Tumblr Dashboard Image Sizes:

  • Photo post: 500 by 750 pixels for dashboard view; 1280 by 1920 pixels for high-res version (except for superwide panoramas).
  • Photoset: 500-pixel width for one image in a photoset row. 245-pixel width for two images in a photoset row. 160-pixel width for three images in a photoset row. Gutters are 10 pixels.
  • Audio Post: 169 by 169 pixels for album art.
  • Link Post: 130 by 130 pixels for the thumbnail image grabbed by Tumblr from web link (if available).
  • Text Post: 125-pixel width for images added to a text post, which expand when clicked.
  • Avatar: 64-by-64-pixel icon next to posts.

betaruga:

z-raid:

fucktonofanatomyreferences:

A glorious fuck-ton of perspective angle references (per request).

[From various sources.]

Sources:

There’s zero way I’m not reblogging this

cardigan-and-boots:

rlyhigh:

saevuswinds:

vardaesque:

you don’t understand i would sell my firstborn to know how this story started

Well it all started when Mrs. Hayfer wanted me to babysit her dumb house. When I got the keys, I sat them on top of this pie that I found on the counter. I knew it was going to be given to the family for desert if I didn’t eat it soon, so I was going to plan to eat it in my teacher’s house and dump all the crumbs on her bed. So it’s a win-win, right? Besides, she wouldn’t find out about the crumbs until after I was paid, and this teacher hates me anyway. Then, I got distracted when this hot cheerleader calls me, asking about what movie I’d recommend, but before I could answer, I realize that my mom would be there any second to serve dinner, and there was no way I was sharing that pie. So I bust out of there with the pie and the keys, and the moment I get in the house, I start chowing down on the pie with my bare hands, trying to eat this thing before anyone knows I took it, right? Well, since the pie crust was dry, I chugged a 2-liter bottle of soda whenever my throat would get dry and eventually, I really needed “to go.” Only when I went to flush, the water wouldn’t stop flowing and there was no plunger to be found. Usually I’d just shrug and say it was Josh’s fault or something, but let’s get real here, Mrs. Hayfer would’ve blamed me about her toilet overflowing if I was 30 states away. So I jammed my foot in there, hoping it’d make the toilet stop flushing. Then my phone rings, and I knew it was my mom, asking where her pie went, and because Meghan decided it’d be a great idea to make my ring tone a bunch of cats meowing, Mrs. Hayfer’s dog, Tiberius starts freaking out, bashing into the door over and over again. Now anyone who knows this dog knows that this dog will happily eat anything, and that includes the pie, and probably myself.  So my foot’s totally stuck in there right, I’m freaking out, the dog’s having a seizure and I still got half a pie left. 

i feel it necessary to reblog since i just read that whole thing

Thank the kind soul who posted that.