h
occasionally subtle
taylor price

#extradirty
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
AnasAbdin
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

if i look back, i am lost
Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.

oozey mess
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Cosmic Funnies

blake kathryn

tannertan36
cherry valley forever
Xuebing Du
Jules of Nature

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@radiofreerockhall

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OSCAR ISAAC ‘In The Hand of Dante’ behind the scenes
when the other person can't match your "exaaaactlyyyyyyy"
people will claim to be filled with whimsy and joy for life but then hate musicals……. the vile tongue of man will never cease lying

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does anyone know what the first step of unlearning shame is. please say it’s substance abuse
It’s substance abuse
i knew it
my beautiful baby who i'm naming untitled document
i can't seem to find my baby
BROOK CANONLY DOES NOT KNOW WHAT THE PIRATE KING TITLE MEANS, AND HAS NEVER HEARD OF THE ONE PIECE
obsessed with his ancient perverted boney stupid ass
I CANNOT get over @asexualzoro‘s headcanon that Brook doesn’t know who or what the Pirate King is and so I just.
brook ride or die ready to commit regicide for his captain
Edit: it’s canon
Another little thing featuring my homebrew gods because I can’t stop myself
I have heard the voices of the people

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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Thank you, Black people in fandom spaces. Thank you, Black creators and Black lurkers. Thank you Black artists, Black writers. Thank you, Black bloggers, Black influencers. Shoutout to those Black characters, both canon and original. Thank you, Black people, both queer and cishet.
Your perspectives matter. Your representation matters. You are not bothersome for demanding equal treatment in fandom. It is not your responsibility to make fandom more welcoming and inclusive to you. It is not your sole responsibility to create all of the Black-centered content. You are not "ruining" anyone's fun for demanding better for yourself, and anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves. Any fandom worth being a part of should have no room for racism in it.
Black people in fandom, you are wanted. You are needed. You are loved and appreciated. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
And since they don't get told it near enough, thank you, Black women especially!!!
Janelle Monáe
@stvksn on ig
I hope your god has asked for your mercy. I hope youve refused to forgive him.
i love this more and more every time i see it.
I have so much love for this person. The amount of empathy it takes to have these considerations about a person you will never meet, the eloquence and conviction with which they speak, the contempt for landlords. Sometimes I see something someone writes or creates and I wish with everything in me that I could meet and talk to that person for hours about what caused them to be this kind of light in the universe. This is one of those times.
Members of the Owls, a black women’s softball team in the 1930s

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I always wanted to create. I had such grand dreams of who and what I would be, and yet-
I think of what could have been, what could still be and yet-
Now I sit, exhausted and underwhelmed in how far I have gone, in how much further there is to go.
I am disappointed I am not as brave as I dreamed I'd be.
I couldn't have known I would make it as far as I have and yet-
I wished it were further. That I would be further.
I know I could be great. I hoped I could be great and yet-
It feels too late.
The parts of me that pushed for greatness, strived for perfection, and were hungry have died.
The parts that were angry and scared, small voices have grown into monstrous creatures, consuming any small fragments of the idealistic, bright-eyed student whose writing was called promising.
The curious and hopeful child who dreamed of stories to tell and watched movies with stars in their eyes has grown still.
Those dreams were an escape; they gave me hope for what could be. who I could be. Those dreams were not accepted as anything beyond a daydream.
When what I needed most was a steady hand to balance against, I found the tightrope I walked was without safety nets, I chose not to walk it.
Instead, I sit on the edge of a precipice leading nowhere and wait.
For what I could not say.
Nothing ahead feels as tangible as it once did. I cannot see anywhere to go and so I sit and wait for something to happen, for the wind to change for a direction to be pushed in. My fantasies and dreams atrophied in their stillness.
I am so angry that I could not be who I thought I would be. That I did not grow into one of my imagined fates, that the many versions of me who kept me company in the dark have since left me behind. The distance between those versions only grows.
Now I sit alone and wait for someone or something to tell me what to do and where to go.
I want to be driven.
I want to hate losing enough to push myself to be better.
and yet-
All I have is the disappointment I have inflicted on myself by standing so still. I have starved all my dreams.
writing my own version of heated rivalry but for double luge
was gonna go into more detail but honestly you get the picture