You Dare To Co-Opt The Prism

Never forget these two queens putting on the most showstopping tiktok of all time

ancient roman women whose husband keeps looking at the neighbour's boy quintus and he never looks at her that way and she can't even chainsmoke in the kitchen because they don't have marlboro blues in ancient times. and she can't even go to the club because they haven't discovered drum and bass music yet. her friend clodia's having visions of a woman named doechii but neither of them knows what that means

I can't touch my face; I feel a severe burning sensation and intense itching in my facial wounds. Please help me urgently raise money for ointments for my face. I lost seven members of my family due to the intense bombing. Please help me by donating here.or by paypal here

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☑️📌Important update $41 / $430

No one has donated for me in the last 16 hours. I still trust that you will save my face and not leave me alone.

one time at a funeral i panicked and said the first drink i could think of and the bartender made me the pina colada With all the fixings all the rims all the bells and whistles i didnt even ask imagine youre at a funeral and the person besides you is drinking a pina colada with whip cream as tall as the drink with a cherry and an umbrella, thats what happened to me

My name was Mitya Ivanovich of Ryazan. I was nine winters old when I died. In 1353 winter came early. The boyars took our grain, the wolves took our goats, and hunger took our minds. One night, I was sent to fetch water from the well. I leaned too far and saw my reflection tremble. Then the rope snapped. The well was bottomless, or so they said. They found my boots days later, frozen solid and standing upright like a man still waiting for spring. If you read this far, it’s too late to pretend you didn’t. You have until the next cockcrow to send this message to 10 villagers or one tax collector. A boyar’s son once received this message carved on birch bark. He laughed, said peasants have no ghosts, and burned it in his hearth. That night, his estate flooded with boiling kvass. A widow in Novgorod copied this tale and sent it to 12 others. The next morning, her cow gave birth to triplets. All healthy. She named them Mitya, Mitya, and Mitya. I still look over their bloodline. Send this to 10 people if you don't want to end up like the boyar's son. Your time starts now

Tumblr has added a new feature to the Like button; click it and you'll see the result. The Share button is also available; I hope you'll try it.

Anyone sitting here right now and seeing this, don't ignore Salma. She's just starting out and has endured three years of genocidal warfare. Make your simple donation a lifeline for her and her oppressed family. Donation campaign