#😂😂😂
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

Origami Around

pixel skylines
Xuebing Du

if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
RMH
KIROKAZE
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Three Goblin Art

oozey mess
trying on a metaphor
NASA
occasionally subtle

titsay
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
AnasAbdin

#extradirty

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@lechet
#😂😂😂

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I have no explanation for this other than it's what pops into my head whenever I hear this on the radio
Hannibal (2013-2015)
1x04 - “Œuf”

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Hey. Look at me. Please leave yourself a note somewhere you'll see it later that says "it is going to take years if not decades to get the United States government to the level of functionality it had in November of 2024." If we elect a democrat in 2028, we are not going to be up and running by 2032.
Please make sure you have a reminder in your phone reminding you to not look at 2028/32/36 Democratic candidates and say "why are they not promising/delivering Cool Shit?" because you are going to understand that to get Cool Shit we must have competent people running a decently funded government, and we are not going to have that.
We are not getting UBI. We are not getting single payer healthcare. We are not getting free college or free preschool. We are not redistributing wealth on a large scale. We are not getting free internet. We are not getting ranked choice voting.
If we are lucky, we are going to get an IRS that can collect taxes, qualified schoolteachers, research grants, Social Security, and a government that thinks maybe it should be a priority for people around the worlds to not have AIDS, malaria or TB.
To be clear, I don't mean we should forget or take our eyes off the ultimate long-term goals of getting Cool Shit, but to get there, we're gonna have to support things like "half-measures" and "small steps" and "not tearing down people who won't get us all the way there" and "understanding that they are starting from the basement basically because every government institution is being decimated"
Yeah. Don't refuse to vote for someone who isn't going to get you where you want to be as fast as you want to be there - vote for someone who's going to bail just a bit faster then we're sinking, and we'll get there someday.
how do the centaurs sleep? and how do they stretch after a good sleep?
Ok this is one I’ve been wanting to cover for a while and my cooldown sketches got out of hand, so buckle up and enjoy the picturebook!
The easiest options is exactly what you think, the flop. In a home, thick carpets or tatami-like mats would provide at least some sort of cushion for the horse-half and various sized cushions and pillows to lift and support the top half. And they CAN sleep standing up, like horses, but it does require both a special harness/corset and practice. And it’s not very comfortable for anything deeper than a doze or catnap for most, so it’s mostly reserved for bad situations, naps, or guard duty.
Most common are recliners, or ‘hammocks’. Easy to fold and carry for cultures on the move, or make fancy for the city-folk they are probably the most ubiquitous of centaur furniture. A simple adjustable A-frame supporting some sort of flexible fabric-ish sheet for the top half to lean against and sleep. Usually paired with some sort of large blanket or padding on the ground to lay the horse-half on!
When you don’t have no fancy recliners, your herd will do! The preferred sleeping method of closely bonded herds is to simply rest on your buddies cushy backside! Roaming bands can often form long chains of sleeping centaurs with the unlucky first taur either on guard duty, sleeping sprawled, or with the group’s only hammock.
Mix and match to your character and herd’s personal preference!
Also stretchies!
You have to admit it's funny
k but if u haven’t seen the guy ritchie sherlock films u don’t get it but they fully wrote holmes as in love w watson. like undeniably in love. In the first ten mins holmes refuses to take a Single case for three months bc watson won’t go with him. he locks himself in his room for two straight weeks, drugs the dog, and shoots the wall for attention bc watson is moving out. he says the world outside his room has nothing to offer until watson asks him to go to dinner & immediately agrees. he humiliates mary bc he’s jealous she can marry watson and he can’t. he goes to a fight club to Feel Something bc he knows john is slipping away from him. there’s never any “oh well just bros being bros” the whole tone towards it is just “ofc he’s in love w watson that’s one of his defining character traits”
as “action packed blockbuster” as these films are
1. sherlock isn’t portrayed as an emotionless machine or sociopath. actually, one of the big problems he faces is he feels too much (so he self medicates self harms and self destructs). he does weird experiments on the dog and annoys mrs hudson and has funny lil disguises
2. watson is not only a BAMF but genuinely loves working cases w sherlock (the adrenaline the mystery the violence) and genuinely matches sherlock’s freak even if he won’t admit it
3. they are both in love with other, both mad about it, and both refuse to vocalize it. once mary understands that john needs sherlock as much as sherlock needs john, she nudges them in a direction that they can both at least internally realize the depth of their feelings if not to each other. she doesn’t get jealous, just shrugs and starts saying “this is my husband john and the man snorting coke off a corpse is john’s husband sherlock”
I’m also not wearing rose colored glasses about them being in love, this is what jude law said about them
Imagine being a patient of Hannibal’s but you just received actual therapy and then took his advice and you’re thriving, but then it comes out that almost all his patients killed at least one person I’d start wondering what was so wrong with me that he didn’t try to harness the dark urges within me, why wasn’t I worth shaping into a furry killer or some unsettling little freak with psychosexual tendencies? I’d need extensive therapy after.
he puts “autism level 9000” in your chart and sends you on your way then has 2 glasses of wine that night

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$1 Frame Packs for Team Crystal and Team Fossil!
i made these for my patrons in the discord server and figured id make them available to everyone! the packs include:
unmerged psds
transparent lineart
still frame (without sparkles / plants)
still frame (with sparkles / plants)
animated frame at 720px
animated frame at 200px
have fun!
He's so cool!
I need everyone to read this I need help
"When I first heard it, I was like, 'Huh?' But it's almost like cheese and the crust. You're like, 'There's nothing more we can do with this pizza,' and then you're like, 'Oh, damn. You know? What else? What if we did this? Whoa.'"
A note, because not everyone knows this: if you're driving and another driver flashes their brights at you, this is a signal to be on alert and slow down. There may be debris in the road, a cop out of sight, or an animal crossing ahead of you. (Or, alternatively, your brights are on and they're getting blinded.) Whatever the reason, it's a signal that you need to focus and reduce speed. And possibly turn your own brights off.
This PSA has been brought to you by the four fawns and does that ran out in front of me at various points on my drive home.
Let's court death with mama!
"During an interview Doug Bradley described hell as a prison; the Cenobites are the prison guards, Pinhead is the prison warden, the puzzle box is the key to the prison cell, and the demons are the escaped inmates." Horror Character Appreciation - Doug Bradley as Pinhead in the Hellraiser series (1987) dir. Clive Barker

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Will Graham the empath. The guy who absorbed vibes. Really liked Hannibal. The guy in control of his immaculate vibes. What a shocker.
I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.
"Would you like to?"
"Sure!"
So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.
Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.