sofiya pasternack

They will be safe. It doesn't matter who else or what else burns as long as They will be safe.

I will be safe. The hunger and the cold will never touch me again.

Fuck any bitch who's prettier(/cooler/better-liked/better at making dumplings) than me.

Yes, Master

Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. LOVE ME!

I know the terrible things these so-called "heroes" will do if I don't stop them (<- is absolutely wrong)

I don't want a better future, I want a better past!

“His penis poked up curiously, like a puppy seeing a tennis ball.”

“His penis lunged against the restraint of his pelvis like a poorly socialized puppy that had just seen a young child to knock over, but was held back by its leash.”

“His balls sagged with embarrassment.”

“His balls clung desperately to each other like lovers parting for the last time.”

“When he came inside, his beard was limp with dejection.”

“His mustache flared with rage.”

“He was thirty-two, but still held onto a hint of the virile man he must have been in high school, his slim and disappointingly muscled body carried with a hint of pungent masculinity, like a tantalizing taste of the scent of motor oil.”

“He was a shy and reserved kind of guy. She had been around guys like him before—the sort that were aware of their soft jawline and modestly sized cock, but were not quite confident enough to realize that a decent ass could make up for that if you had an interesting enough personality.”

“Bruce. Tall, ruggedly chiseled Bruce, his sawdust skin tinted with the shade of medium-rare steak, his granite body just making up for the fact that his legs were just a bit too thin to really look good in those khaki shorts. Bruce was the kind of man who wore his polo shirts unbuttoned, but didn’t seem to notice when he drew the attention of every woman with eyes in the area.”

so the weavers/spinners were telling stories to pass the time and then they were like 'yo but what if WE were in it.'

Most surviving work songs are only a few centuries old (such as Yankee Doodle, believe it or not, which probably started out as a 15th cent Dutch harvest song), but the practice itself is probably much, much older. As in, earliest-agrarian-societies old. As in, hunters-and-gatherers old.

King David is:

Such a dramatic bitch that he wrote 150 psalms for no fucking reason

The amount of songs he wrote is innumerable and that is extra as fuck

Is so good at playing the kinnor (its basically an ancient lute) that he could banish demons with it.

Chaotic neutral on a good day

Notoriously hot

Made a habit of running into the woods when something went wrong.

Petty as fuck

Managed to gain a following of four hundred outlaws to follow him and rebel against the king on his charisma alone