an icon, literally an icon
ojovivo
$LAYYYTER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

oozey mess
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

tannertan36
Cosimo Galluzzi
DEAR READER

ā

@theartofmadeline
occasionally subtle
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Misplaced Lens Cap
Three Goblin Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@desertdreams
an icon, literally an icon

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āThereās a cure?!ā asked the girl that kills everything she touches.Ā āHey shut up weāre perfā replied the girl that makes clouds.Ā
For real though. Storm has stopped an entire tsunami before. āMakes clouds my assā she can conjure lightning and tornadoes and is revered as a god in her tribe. She literally changes atmospheric pressure and thatās how she flies. So fuck you. Storm is flawless.
I think you missed the part where the GIRL WHO KILLS EVERYTHING SHE TOUCHES wants to NOT KILL EVERYTHING SHE TOUCHES and everyone dismisses her incredible misfortune just because the lady who is the AVATAR OF THE STORM won the fucking SUPERPOWER LOTTERY
āFinally, a cure for my chainsaw hands!ā decreed Chainsaw-Hands Joe.
āThere is no cure,ā said Johnny Five-Dicks. āThereās nothing wrong with us.ā
The last comment literally always cracks me up
The First Time with Maisie Williams & Sophie Turner
That rabbit/hare post is messing me up. Iād thought they were synonyms. Their development and social behavior are all different. They canāt even interbreed. They donāt have the same number of chromosomes. Dogs, wolves, jackals, and coyotes can mate with each other and have fertile offspring but rabbits and hares cant even make infertile ones bc they just die in the womb. Wack.
These
are more genetically compatible than These
and thatās why morphology-based phylogeny has Issues

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I love genuinely innocent āboys will be boys.ā Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans theyād left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going āYOOOOOOOOOOā
I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.
I once lost my keys at a frat house.
My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch.Ā Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out.Ā I do not remember this part.
The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house.Ā I stood there, right in front of the front door.Ā This was a novel experience for me.Ā Iād never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.
A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing.Ā
āI lost my keys in here last night,ā I called back.Ā Ā āI was seeing if I could go in and look for them?ā
He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.
āGo wherever you want.ā
Iād never seen a frat house post-party before.Ā Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light.Ā A few of them threw puzzled glances my way.Ā Iām sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.
I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.
āDo you like dog movies?ā he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.
I told him I did.
He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing.Ā I told him I was looking for my keys.
āSorry, I havenāt seen any keys around here.ā
I didnāt doubt him.
Twenty minutes had passed.Ā Iād searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house.Ā Iād given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommatesā forgiveness and get a new set copied.
As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.
āYou need help with something?ā
āI lost my keys here last night and I canāt find them, Iāve looked everywhere.ā
āWhat do they look like?Ā Iāll put it into the group chat.āĀ He was already pulling out his phone.
No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell.Ā It was worth a shot.Ā Ā āUm, itās just a ring of keys.Ā The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big.Ā Like bright pink, you canāt miss it.ā
He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.
āAlright, I sent the message out.Ā Good luck.ā
And with that, he turned and left.
A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering.Ā It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder.Ā One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.
āSomeone tell the girl!ā One of them shouted, faceless in the mob.Ā āGirl!Ā Hey, GIRL!!!Ā Ā We found your keys, girl!!!ā
They circled around me.Ā I hadnāt felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old.Ā One of them split himself off from the crowd.
āAre theseĀ -ā he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, āyour keys?ā
And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.
āYes,ā I whispered.Ā Ā āOh my god, yes.ā
āEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!ā
The cheer went up.
Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs.Ā I thanked them again profusely.Ā There was a scattered round ofĀ āno problemsā and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.
I had no idea that chickens could?? float?? or swim??? I donāt know why Iāve never thought of chickens as buoyant. I never picture chickens anywhere near water. what else have I been missing
Accidentally typedĀ āindistinct butteringā instead of muttering and that is somehow super creepy. Like, you can just barely hearā¦in the other roomā¦the scrape of a knife against toast.
Thatās just how it is in England.
like okay i know astrology is fake but itās real
Someone once told me economics is just astrology for men and I am hanging onto that and getting as much mileage out of it as I possibly can before I die.

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Itād really suck if I got ice or water-themed superpowers. Iād have to wear blue and white and gray instead of the reds and oranges I prefer.
wear the reds and oranges and pull an iceland/greenland on em
āI have cornered you in this aquarium, where your fire powers are useless!ā
āFire powers? Dude, Iām an ice hero. I freeze shit and manipulate water. Also, I love aquariums. Thanks for the free entry!ā
āBut⦠youāre dressed like Guy Fieriā¦?ā
āYeah haha. I have an autumnal complexion.ā
Also, no superhero should have a name that gives away the power set. Misdirection -Ā āGet him, Lasereye!ā āHaha, my mirror will deflect your, wait, why are you made of stone now?ā
They call him laser eye because he once blinded himself with a laser pointer and it was the funniest shit theyād ever seen
Sleepy labs
hereās all the gang!Ā

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JUST WATCH IT OK
Holt shit
YES
I am scared and confused.
I love thisā¦.those kids are geniusesā¦and do they actually know how to play/tongue/bow the instrument they were playing in that video? Not doubting them or anything it just looked like they swapped instrumentsā¦.
Ok, as the person in the blue shirt on the left, I can explain what is going on here.
On the far left, you see a clarinetist playing a broken cello. Ā She does not know how to play the cello. Ā (Nor does that cello have any intention of being played.)
My friend and I are collectively playing a frankenstein of an instrument that I like to call theĀ āEb bassooninet.ā Ā Itās an Eb clarinet with a bassoon bocal attached. It sounds like a dying duck.
The bassoonist in the middle is the only one playing a normal instrument normally.
Second from the right, you see a clarinetist playing half a clarinet.
Finally, on the far right you see a clarinetist playing a Bb clarinet that is pulled out so far at every joint that it approximates an A clarinet.
The best part about this video is that everyone is actually a really accomplished musician, not that youād guess it xD
au contraire, this is the kind of thing ONLY accomplished musicians are fucking weird enough to come up with
The best notes written in manuscripts by medieval monks
Colophon: a statement at the end of a book containing the scribe or ownerās name, date of completion, or bitching about how hard it is to write a book in the dark ages
Oh, my hand
The parchment is very hairy
Thank God it will soon be dark
St. Patrick of Armagh, deliver me from writing
Now Iāve written the whole thing; for Christās sake give me a drink
Oh d fuckin abbot
Massive hangover
Whoever translated these Gospels did a very poor job
Cursed be the pesty cat that urinated over this book during the night
If someone else would like such a handsome book, come and look me up in Paris, across from the Notre Dame cathedral
I shall remember, O Christ, that I am writing of Thee, because I am wrecked today
Do not reproach me concerning the letters, the ink is bad and the parchment scanty and the day is dark
11 golden letters, 8 shilling each; 700 letters with double shafts, 7 shilling for each hundred; and 35 quires of text, each 16 leaves, at 3 shilling each. For such an amount I wonāt write again
Here ends the second part of the title work of Brother Thomas Aquinas of the Dominican Order; very long, very verbose; and very tedious for the scribe; thank God, thank God, and again thank God
If anyone take away this book, let him die the death, let him be fried in a pan; let the falling sickness and fever seize him; let him be broken on the wheel, and hanged. Amen
what does oh d fuckin abbot even MEAN
an abbot is the head of a monastery so it just means āfuck my bossā basically, an abbreviation of āO damned fuckin Abbotā. this is what it looks like:
Brasenose College MS 7, f.62vĀ
Medieval monks say Fuck Work