so-i-dub-thee-unforgiven
gallifrey-feels:

appropriately-inappropriate:

dykeprivilege:

jessicabeachgirl:

seethestarsablaze:

heyimrudeacid:

lesbii-cool:

*starts a fire in my kitchen*

*starts fire in my bedroom*

Omfg. Um. Hello there.

*Starts a fire in my pants!!!*

*gets trapped in lift*

The best part is that there’s a fairly decent chance, given the background of the photo (dry wilderness and scrub brush) that the firefighter in this picture is a Hotshot—
And Hotshots, along with Smoke-Jumpers, are sort of like… Okay. If firefighters are rockstars, Hot-Shots are Queen and Smoke-Jumpers are whatever Tony Stark uses to rev himself up for badassery.
Hotshots are elite firefighters who train extensively and are inserted into high-risk terrain in order to fight the fire on the ground. In layman’s terms—if there’s a forest fire threatening your house, the hotshots are the dudes digging the fire trenches while whirling beams of fire snap give feet from them.
And then, then, there’s the Smoke-Jumpers. As their name implies, they jump smoke. In layman’s terms—the fires the hotshots can’t reach by land? Those crazy fuckera PARACHUTE into forest fires.
Because jumping out of a plane isn’t scary enough, they do it in near-zero visibility, through scorching smoke, with the risk that the thermals and currents could blow them right into a burning tree, to pick a landing spot so they can then be in remote backwoods wilderness with minimal hope of rescue if something goes tits up.
So yeah. If this lady’s an urban firefighter she’s a huge badass. But if my guess is right and she’s a more elite unit, then I want to have her gay babies like, yesterday.

uh huuuunnnnhg

gallifrey-feels:

appropriately-inappropriate:

dykeprivilege:

jessicabeachgirl:

seethestarsablaze:

heyimrudeacid:

lesbii-cool:

*starts a fire in my kitchen*

*starts fire in my bedroom*

Omfg. Um. Hello there.

*Starts a fire in my pants!!!*

*gets trapped in lift*

The best part is that there’s a fairly decent chance, given the background of the photo (dry wilderness and scrub brush) that the firefighter in this picture is a Hotshot—

And Hotshots, along with Smoke-Jumpers, are sort of like… Okay. If firefighters are rockstars, Hot-Shots are Queen and Smoke-Jumpers are whatever Tony Stark uses to rev himself up for badassery.

Hotshots are elite firefighters who train extensively and are inserted into high-risk terrain in order to fight the fire on the ground.
In layman’s terms—if there’s a forest fire threatening your house, the hotshots are the dudes digging the fire trenches while whirling beams of fire snap give feet from them.

And then, then, there’s the Smoke-Jumpers. As their name implies, they jump smoke.
In layman’s terms—the fires the hotshots can’t reach by land? Those crazy fuckera PARACHUTE into forest fires.

Because jumping out of a plane isn’t scary enough, they do it in near-zero visibility, through scorching smoke, with the risk that the thermals and currents could blow them right into a burning tree, to pick a landing spot so they can then be in remote backwoods wilderness with minimal hope of rescue if something goes tits up.

So yeah. If this lady’s an urban firefighter she’s a huge badass. But if my guess is right and she’s a more elite unit, then I want to have her gay babies like, yesterday.

uh huuuunnnnhg

so-i-dub-thee-unforgiven

springtimecas:

wilhedivahater:

byronpunk:

jadebloods:

scottiemcchottie:

narcissusmetamorphosis:

we have all read fanfiction that we shouldn’t have

just a few favorite tags

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just open up tag viewer on this post and settle in with a snack cause ain’t nobody sleeping tonight, friends

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installing tag viewer for this was the best decision i ever made

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this is so tragically beautiful

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Where do people find these

lumos-of-my-life

8bitatoms:

phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess:

sevvey6:

morbidamusement:

captain-snark:

bananamerlin:

maderadearquitecto:

Thermochromic table by Jay Watson

imagine banging someone on that table

imagine being home alone and seeing imprints on that table

noooooo stop

Imagine having a friend sit at that table for a long while, but when they get up there’s no imprints at all.

What if you got up after trying to console a crying friend, and found that you had no imprints… and they were crying because they missed you?

aaaah it was a cool table now it’s a horror/drama story