DNI
Pedos, Antishippers, Fujoshis

Origami Around

Andulka
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

pixel skylines
Stranger Things
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Cosimo Galluzzi
I'd rather be in outer space šø
noise dept.
art blog(derogatory)

Three Goblin Art
taylor price
Misplaced Lens Cap
Show & Tell
One Nice Bug Per Day

blake kathryn
hello vonnie
Claire Keane
seen from Germany
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seen from Germany
seen from Brazil

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Australia
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seen from Türkiye
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seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from India
@ladylum
DNI
Pedos, Antishippers, Fujoshis

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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sometimes it genuinely feels like other people don't remember being children. "omg if a 13 year old is looking at porn there is something deeply wrong šØ they shouldn't even be thinking about sex!!" they are going through puberty and their hormones are going crazy. do you remember being 13 years old.
pedos are wanking off to the reblogs, hope youre proud of yourself opš
Phallophobia
I am a cisgender woman. I know what it's like to be wary of some men.
I am not and will never be anywhere as terrified of people with penises as TERFs. The way they write their little screeds online, it feels like the mere mention of a penis somewhere in space and time would make them faint. But somehow they got even worse: they've just devolved into straight-up dick paranoia. They genuinely seem to think that every cisgender woman they don't like is a trans woman in disguise; every trans woman is a predator waiting for an opening; that all trans men, no matter their circumstances, are deluded and require conversion therapy; and at the end of that terrifying, warped list is their incredible fear that every person with a penis is a rapist.
To them, because power corrupts, and they see penises as a form of immutable power, that means every person attached to a dick is corrupt absolutely. They're so deeply removed from reality that I don't know how any of them exist outside of their homes. I literally cannot fathom being this terrified and obsessed about penises. It's beyond me. It's like HP Lovecraft level eldritch terror but for meat flutes. That's where they are.
Can you imagine being that terrified? That your fear of a sex organ throws you into frantic fanaticism? That you have to forcibly remove all cisgender men from any form of childcare because you're convinced they can't help but sexually assault children? That you would ally with fascists and Nazis solely to remove anyone with a penis from entire parts of public life? That you would whole-cloth forget that cisgender women are also capable of and routinely responsible for a good share of sexual assaults?
It's like that Neitche quote: if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. But the abyss is just, like, a boatload of dicks that they can't stop thinking about and now they're worried there's dicks in them hills, dicks in the lake, dicks in the air dickin' up the place. Like, girls, get help. This is not normal and it's not healthy. Talk to a therapist because you've become removed from reality. Holy fuck.
Rayman 3 Hoodlum Havoc Review - Maraython
Well, it's out. This is my first review I've made so I hope you enjoy. I'm so glad to have joined Rayman's 30th anniversary event, Maraython :)
thumbnail too as usual!
"See you in Rayman 4!"

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The ālookā
Thereās something unmistakable about them. You see one, and you already know. The dyed, brittle hair, the vacant, screen-burned eyes, the weak chin, the soft, puffy face untouched by discipline or hardship. The slouched posture, the irony-laced clothing draped over a malnourished frame, or worse, a body bloated by years of synthetic hormones and seed oil sludge. You donāt need to hear them speak. You donāt need to know their opinions. You already know.
Trans activists, radical feminists, vegans, leftistsāthey all have a look. Itās a kind of physical manifestation of their beliefs, as if their bodies have conformed to the very ideology they serve. They are malleable in mind, and so they become malleable in form. Their faces lack definition, their expressions are permanently strained, their entire physiognomy reflects what they are insideāsoft, sickly, devoid of strength, devoid of anything resembling conviction or certainty. It is not merely a coincidence. It is not random. This is what happens when you reject truth, when you sever yourself from God, when you let nihilism and despair dictate every aspect of your existence.
A personās face tells a story. The structure of the jaw, the clarity of the eyes, the way they carry themselvesāthese are not meaningless details. They are reflections of something deeper. Strength, courage, disciplineāthese things leave their mark. So too does cowardice, self-indulgence, and moral rot. And when you look at these people, what do you see? You see something malformed. Something off. They have none of the marks of a life lived with purpose. No sharpness, no presence, no quiet authority. Just a formless mass of resentment, confusion, and decay.
The menāif you can call them thatāare the worst of all. They are the physical embodiment of submission, of fear, of castration. Their jaws have softened, their shoulders have caved in, their movements are hesitant, apologetic, the posture of someone expecting to be struck down at any moment. They wear weak, ironic smiles or anxious, darting expressions, the result of a life spent desperately seeking the approval of the feminist hags and gender cultists who surround them. These men have never built anything, never protected anything, never taken responsibility for anything. Their physiognomy betrays them.
The vegan leftist male is particularly pitifulāa body wasted away by malnutrition, limbs like twigs, a face prematurely aged and devoid of vitality. Their skin is sallow, their hair is thinning, their teeth are fragile. Their entire being is a warning against the diet they so fervently evangelise. They pride themselves on their ācompassionā as they grow weaker by the day, utterly disconnected from the reality that nature does not reward softness.
And then there are the āmenā of the trans movement. The estrogen-ravaged grotesqueries who lurch through society demanding validation. Their bodies, poisoned by years of synthetic hormones, exist in a state of perpetual contradiction. They are bloated yet brittle, swollen yet fragile, puffed up with artificial weight while their bones deteriorate from the inside out. Their voices are wrongāeither forced and strained from years of vocal training, or high and reedy from the chemical castration they have willingly undergone. Their eyes are haunted, their expressions never quite natural, because deep down, on a level they refuse to acknowledge, they know. They know they are lying to themselves, they know their very flesh rejects the illusion they are trying to maintain. And so they compensate with aggression, with hysterics, with rage, lashing out at the world that refuses to bend to their delusion.
The women are hardly any better. Hard-faced, bitter, yet paradoxically soft and undisciplined. They move through life carrying the weight of their own resentment, and it shows. The radical feminists wear their ideology like a maskāperpetually furrowed brows, pinched lips, eyes hardened by years of grievance studies and manufactured outrage. They loathe femininity in any natural form, and so they do everything in their power to strip themselves of it. The clothing, the hairstyles, the mannerismsāall deliberate attempts to make themselves as repellent as possible. They scoff at beauty because they cannot attain it. They mock grace because they cannot embody it. And so they make war on it. Their softness is not the softness of a nurturer, a mother, a woman full of life and warmth. It is the softness of neglect, of decay, of indulgence. It is an insult to what womanhood was meant to be.
There is something profoundly sick about all of them. It is not just their appearanceāit is their energy, their presence, their entire being. They radiate weakness, sickness, a sense of unease that infects everything around them. They hate themselves, and so they want the world to reflect that hatred. They are the products of nihilism, of a society that has abandoned all meaning, all purpose, all sense of the divine. They are lost, but unlike the truly lost, they are content in their despair. They have made it their identity. They do not seek truth. They do not seek salvation. They revel in their own sickness, and they demand that the rest of us do the same.
This is what godlessness looks like. This is what happens when you tear down every natural order, when you reject the structure that has sustained civilisation for millennia. A people disconnected from God are a people disconnected from life itself. They become aimless, weak, malleable. They have no sense of something greater than themselves, and so they fill that void with the empty slogans of leftist dogma. They do not seek to build. They do not seek to create. They seek only to tear down, to rot, to infect.
And the worst part? They think they are the future. They think they are the revolution. They think they are enlightened, that they are leading us towards some grand utopia of tolerance and progress. But look at them. Really look at them. These are not the faces of a new era. These are not the warriors of a brighter tomorrow. These are the faces of decline, of weakness, of a people who have abandoned everything that makes life worth living.
They are not the future. They are what happens before the collapse.
Moids would rather write a whole essay about men than come out of their skeleton infested closets.
FtM Transturds piss me off. Know why? Lady, you think you can just pretend to be a MAN? First off fuck you, privileged feminist trash. You didn't grow up like us. You didn't have to deal with the fights, the bullying, the DAILY implied violence of just going to school. You are not a Man, and you can NEVER be one. You benefitted from female privilege, the privilege of being PROTECTED by a society that tells young boys to toughen up. So lil miss FtM, Fuck you, I don't owe you acceptance, cause GUYS DON'T JUST GIVE THAT OUT EVEN TO EACH OTHER. FtMs need to be BEAT in like their joining a gang, because THAT is a part of the Male experience. VIOLENCE. And your dumb ass NEVER got a real taste of that. Look up Norah Vincent. (Listen to her, and remember she killed herself after being one of us for only a few years) and Ask yourself. Could you get up after having the air kicked out of you and not shed a single tear? Could you have done that at 8? Afraid of Rape? that's cute, Rape is survivable. Men do not get raped in the same situations women do. we just get killed. Did you go to college? Did you have to sign your soul to the US Army to be able to do so? Men have to, even the ones that don't go to college have to sign up to DIE FOR YOUR IMPLIED SAFETY. you're nothing but a spoiled child playing pretend. You disgust me, not for what's wrong with your skull, but that you have reduced the Male experience to fucking DRESS-UP. and THAT alone shows how much of a LITTLE GIRL you actually are. I'm not "Transphobic" why would I be phobic of disgusting, idiotic degenerates? No. I HATE YOU. I would reopen Auschwitz for YOU.... but then I remember you idiots sterilize yourselves (exactly as the Nazis would have wanted by the way, dumbasses) and I Remember this stupid Trans-FAD will pass, generations from now will look at you all like the fucking psychotic freaks you CHOSE to be. and yes, dear gods I am ALLOWED my opinion. You're allowed to mutilate yourself instead of learning the real lesson of self image. (Hint, it's about self acceptance you moron, but we know you'll never manage that)
āHeās not a rapistā but he is friends with one.
āHeās not a rapistā but he doesnāt care that another man is.
āHeās not a rapistā but he thinks every accusation is probably a false one.
āHeās not a rapistā but he believes rape isnāt the worst crime.
āHeās not a rapistā but he asks what clothes was she wearing.
āHeās not a rapistsā but he says āShe was drunk, what did she expectā.
āHeās not a rapistā but he makes rape jokes.
āHeās not a rapistā but he is into CNC.
āHeās not a rapistā but he watches porn.
āHeās not a rapistā but he IS a rapist.
i find pretty much all men creepy, because even the nicest most innocent seeming guy you know is going home to jerk off to fucked up porn and/or will admit something horrifying to you after letting your guard down around them for long enough. It's like they're all some other type of creature just cosplaying as humans and I find that unsettling to the highest degree, I do not want to be around them.
i donāt CARE how āimpliedā it is, my f/o loves ME and thatās all that matters š¤š¤š¤
FUCK OFF ANDY DOUBLES, HEāS MINE

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YOUR autistic eyes are UGLY as hell
Annoying Shit Most Yaoi Fans do #6:
-Sees āBL subtextā in every single damn anime/manga and other life forms.Ā
-Even when it comes to pure friendships of simple, little boys.
-Take over all sports anime
Annoying Shit Yaoi Fans do #3:
1) Ruin beautiful friendships
2) Undervalue the plot
3) Undervalue the bigger picture
4) Undervalue the authorās deeper themes
all for the sake of theirĀ āhawt yaoi.ā

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
You know whatās sad?
When shitty, yaoi fics get a million reviews and attention and your well written, high quality work gets close to none.
Do I ship Andy with Globox??
NOOOO, THAT IS SEROUSLY FUJO SHIT AND IāM NOT A FUJOSHI.š¤®THEYāRE PLATONIC FRENEMIES AT MOST!!!!