"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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Monterey Bay Aquarium
RMH
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year


祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Cosimo Galluzzi

JBB: An Artblog!
KIROKAZE
$LAYYYTER

Kiana Khansmith
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
cherry valley forever

Love Begins

oozey mess
Peter Solarz
tumblr dot com
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@satusepiida

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American soldier, you are killing and dying for a pederass who tried to sell steaks at Sharper Image one time while your wife makes love to countless beautiful women without you. Is this what you wanted?
You're in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere picking sand out of the crack of your ass in between your shifts of pouring diesel fuel into buckets of human shit and lighting it on fire. Back home right now your kids hate your guts and your wife is getting ready to leave you for her new girlfriend. The boys in Washington are laughing at you all the way to the bank. Bad way to live, son.
ultimately, I should love myself 🏳️⚧️
(he/him)
ty for the kind words 💜💜💜
obsessed with this video
the camera person deserves the raise of the century
Recently managed to activate the most amazing infodump trap card.
I was driving through Vermont with a friend, and we pulled over at a tiny shop offering Maple Items. We were on the state highway, not the interstate, so "pulling over" meant "squeezing my tiny car into a parking bay the size of a broad highway shoulder."
As we got out of the car, an older woman emerged from behind the building where she had been pruning her roses. She introduced herself as Tammy.
Her shop offered the promised variety of Maple, but also a number of small antiques and a plethora of dog figurines, plaques, and clearly-hand-stitched garden flags.
A huge purple ribbon hung on the wall behind the register, along with many pictures of small dogs. This was no county fair ribbon. It was the size of my torso. The material had the soft sheen of actual silk.
As I placed my purchases on the counter, I asked, "Do you... Breed dogs?"
Yes. She does. She has bred Yorkies for the last 40 years. Her mother bred Yorkies before her. The purple ribbon was from her national championship winning Yorkie.
You may be expecting that the infodump was going to be about Yorkies.
It was not.
It was about 40 years of drama in the Yorkie breeding community. Where – you must understand – the judging at shows is often about who you're in with, not about the dogs. This is especially true when Tammy's opponents win anything.
And Tammy's mother! Well. Phyllis has been on the Yorkie scene since Yorkies were invented. Because of this, many women of equally venerable age hold deep grudges against Phyllis. The sort of grudges that result in episodes of Midsommar Murders.
This led to deep injustices against Phyllis on the part of judges and prevented her dogs from winning so often she retired from the scene. Judging is all about who you're friends with, after all.
After 20 years in hiding, Phyllis – the One True Queen of Yorkie Breeding – hatched a plot. She may have been out of the show circuit, but she was still breeding dogs. She entered an absolutely perfect bitch in the national competition, but sent her with a handler rather than go in person.
None of the usurpers knew who this dog belonged to, and in dog-breeding circles this Does Not Happen. This could have resulted in further injustices, but Phyllis was crafty. She knew this tournament was being judged by a man from the UK, who knew naught of the drama in the US Yorkie Empire.
With these advantages – and being the best dog there – Phyllis's bitch won the highest honor at the show.
Incensed by this insult to their ill-gotten supremacy, the other owners descended on the handler after the show, demanding to know for whom he was working.
"Phyllis," said he.
The name of the overthrown queen evoked horror in the usurpers.
"PHYLLIS!? She's still ALIVE!???"
Yes, Phyllis yet lived, and this bitch – the dog, not the woman – went on to mother Tammy's current dogs. One of whom, Lucy-Fur, is the reincarnation of Tammy's sister (also Lucy). This is certain for two reasons.
Firstly, Sister Lucy absolutely went straight to Hell upon her death, and Lucy-Fur the dog is positively as evil as Sister Lucy was.
Secondly, Sister Lucy always said when she died she wanted to come back as one of Phyllis's dogs because "mom treated the dogs better than us."

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amazing tweet by mou
yall aren’t gonna believe this
I swear to god I tried to grab my phone but I couldn’t without ruining the moment
He wouldn’t lEAVE
I’m so fucking proud of my weird wet son
IT IS A THING NOW
Important update: it has been several weeks and little mans still needs to inspect and rub his face on the shower head every single night before bed so after washing up and putting on my jimjams I then have to get up on a stool like
if you aren't best friends with your lover and a little bit in love with all your friends than what's the fucking point
I Defeated the Demon Lord but it Turns Out the Demon Army was Largely Unaffected and I Fell Victim to a Flawed Belief in Great Man Theory
I Defeated The Demon Lord And Now I'm Being Blamed For My Creator's Attachment To Genre Conventions And Inability To Create A Complex Sociopolitical Landscape
As I said, quietly writing in my notepad, I was approached by a white male attendee. He did not ask if it was a good time to approach me; he did not seem to care that I was obviously working. He just sat next to me and said, "oh good, now I can talk to you. I have a question." The man did not wait for my consent to the conversation. He just dove in.
He described a few of the political activism groups he's involved in, mostly around environmentalism. ...And he was sure that, just like every other event he had attended, it would be populated exclusively with white people. He would love to see more people of color at these events, he said, but they were nowhere to be found. "Why," he asked me in conclusion, "don't people of color care more about important political issues?"
Many white men see a political landscape dominated by white men and think it is that way because white men are just more politically minded. They think that the absence of women and people of color from powerful rooms is due to self-selection.
They do not question how unwelcoming the room they have built might be. They do not question whether or not the discussions they are having in that room are inclusive and generate productive discussions for women and people of color. They don't ask if there are other, equally important conversations happening in other rooms. And they don't even bother to ask if anyone unlocked the door.
They look at the room and say that women and people of color aren't in it because women and people of color aren't interested. Then they cite this supposed disinterest as proof that women and people of color are too unqualified to even be invited in."
Chapter 6- Mediocre, Ijeoma Oluo
For a Tumblr-specific example, this is why if you don't "see" Black people in your fandom spaces, there's a reason for that. It usually means the space is unwelcome at best, actively hostile at worst. You just don't perceive it bc it doesn't directly affect your entertainment.

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Regent Parrot or Rock Pebbler (Polytelis anthopeplus), family Psittaculidae, order Psittaciformes, found across southern Australia
photograph by Jan Wegener
just stressed myself out until i died
Horses exist in zoos, you're pretty sure. That's where they, more or less, belong. It's not like there's a stable next to the auto shop or something. Are there… wild horses? In… nature? Presumably, at some point, there must have been. Probably not, anymore. Oh, the race tracks, though. Duh. They probably have stables. Couldn't lose twenty thousand wen a day if there weren't losing horses to bet on. Horses don't belong at the gas station, but there's one here anyways. Its rider is wearing a leather jacket studded with old military medals; what looks like a torso-sized cogwheel, slung over her back like a shield; a broadsword, underneath the cog-shield; and a pair of holo-screen shades. She dismounts. She slides her card through the machine. The pumps start pumping. The horse sticks out its neck, dips its snout, and begins drinking gasoline directly from the nozzle. The rider holds the spout up to the horse's mouth, at a bit of an awkward angle. She meets your eyes, and shrugs. You know how it is. You don't know how it is. Later, you will see her on the news, clotheslining a police officer on horseback at seventy miles per hour. You will understand even less, and also, so much more.
— Emily Zhu, Ten Thousand Days For the Sword
one of the funniest conversations I ever had with my ex was when they were still getting used to Celsius and asked me "what's 20 degrees?" and instead of converting it, I said "it's the highest your dad will ever let you set the thermostat and when you say you're cold he tells you to put on another sweater, we're not made of money" and they went "oh, 68"
the fact that this reference was that fucking precise was something they went on to tell people about for years.

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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can i stare at u like this
via
When the story has a sequence where the characters each get personally tortured with their exact personalized greatest fears and traumas