we're not kids anymore.
tannertan36
Love Begins
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Xuebing Du
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
#extradirty
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
★
ellievsbear
$LAYYYTER
Discoholic 🪩
taylor price
Today's Document
shark vs the universe
Origami Around
almost home
Kaledo Art
Claire Keane
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@weirdspoons
went to a pride event today and it was my first time going out shirtless in public (in a non-swimming pool context) post top surgery!
a little less goth of a look than i usually go for, but i like it nonetheless
(i don’t have nipples anymore so the pasties were kinda just a joke between me and my roommate who i went with)
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I think that the Hamilton musical is objectively the funniest thing that could happen to that man's memory. Imagine dying of a gunshot wound infection in 1804 and learning from the afterlife that tweenage girls in 2017 are drawing thousands upon thousands of images of you making out with your fellow congressmen because someone wrote a 2-hour rap opera about you. I like to imagine that Hamilton found a monkey's paw and wished to leave a legacy, and this is what it did to him.
you have no control
who lives
who dies
who tells your story
tiktok teen lgbts would not survive in the 80s and 90s when lesbians called gay guys fags lovingly and gay guys would call us dykes lovingly
now rebloggable. fuck with me
Why the fish
The fish is what makes the post rebloggable
The fish is what makes this post fuckable
happy flat fag friday
ultimately the truth about frankenstein is that we are all grotesque amalgamations of the best and worst parts of everyone who came before us. and sometimes the people who are supposed to love us because of and in spite of this will not. and we can kill them with hammers for that. and i think that’s beautiful
my brother in christ frankenstein is the title of the book
COUNTERPOINT
well i can’t argue with that one
Ah yes, Mary Shelley’s monster.
no mary shelley is the name of the monster not the doctor
common misconception! mary shelley's monster was actually lord byron
There is a reality not so far from our own in which Ratitouille (2007) was filmed as an avant-garde conceptual horror akin to Eraserhead (1977)
There is a young American man in France. His mother has passed away. He has few friends, and works the thankless job of a bus boy in a prestigious restaurant, but dreams of becoming a chef despite having very little skill.
He returns one night to his humble apartment, which is known to have vermin, and comes across a rat, which he could easily kill or set loose on the street.
But the rat- it is special. It seems to speak to him. Promises him every little thing he desires- talent, fame, and fortune. Recognition and esteem like he has only ever seen from afar; fine company like the wealthy men and women whose scraps he picks at over the sink.
Put me on your head, the rat says. Put me on your head and think of nothing.
It is strange at first, yes. Strange to feel another take control of his life and live it better than he ever could. To see miraculous things created with his own two hands, to feel his feet move in graceful and fantastic ways with a confidence he has never had.
But the rat delivers as he had promised: he receives promotions, notoriety, admiration. He is noticed. Envied. Every day is a waking dream, rubbing elbows with beautiful women and handsome men and influential personalities who lavish him with praise. It is addictive, this lifestyle- never mind that he is only ever truly conscious of it as a passenger of in own brain.
It is when he has reached heights few can ever conceive, with all that the rat had ever promised- a beautiful wife in a beautiful house with all the world in his palm, in possession of all the wealth and success a man could ever want, that the rat says that it is leaving.
Leaving? The rat cannot leave. Everything he is, the rat has provided.
"I have delivered on our bargain", the rat says. "I have brought to you all that you have ever dreamed. What more could you desire? I must live my own life, now."
The man is furious. He is terrified. He destroys the rat, in all of the ways that a rat can be destroyed, until nothing is left of it but a fine smear of marinara sauce.
He returns to the restaurant the next day moving like the shell of something hollowed-out and brittle. He cooks well- his fingers remember the movements, his eyes recognize the patterns, his mouth knows without his asking what orders to speak and what platitudes make patrons smile pleasantly with their straight white teeth.
He retains the talents of the rat. The charm of the rat. All the worldly pleasures the rat had provided him.
Still, it seems, he is little more than a vessel for the talents of the rat.
But the rat is gone.
What remains of the man?
You see my vision
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they won't tell you this in therapy but sometimes the best way to stop catastrophizing/anxiety is to interrupt your spiraling with "girl what the hell are you talking about"
It's not a cure but you have no idea how many times this image has helped me with my OCD
This tag has been more effective than any meds I’ve ever taken
This tag has been more
effective than any meds
I’ve ever taken
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
I think Joan of Arc's fursona would be a dog called Joan of Bark, but my partner thinks it would be a phoenix, which seems insensitive to me, but neither of us are furries, so I guess we don't really get a say either way.
I promise I’m not trying to be pretentious here. Jeanne d’Arc’s last name is d’Arc. An overly-literal translator insisted it stood for “of Arc”, and that’s why we know her as Joan of Arc. At the time, she was more commonly known as “Jeanne la Pucelle”, meaning “Joan the Maiden” or “Joan the Virgin”.
anyways since her main attack strategy was “hit them until they stop moving” I think she’d be a gorilla.
*taking notes* What else do you know about this beautiful world?
How giraffes drink
I'm gonna be real, I was in a hurry when I made these things. Didn't expect em to make it. I'm proud of em, actually.
Personal gold stars
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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Throwback to the time tumblr accidentally sent a post 15 years into the past
genuinely I cannot fathom trying to use Tumblr like any other social media. I just thought to myself “why does Tumblr even have a ‘Best Posts First’ feature? why would I want to see good posts?” and then I had to stop and consider that for a second
when i was younger i had a really bad fear of danny devito when i was going to sleep so my older brother gave me a watch that he set to like 8 hours ahead so that it was always daytime on the watch when i was asleep and he told me it would confuse danny devito and he would think it was daytime and get scared of the sun and leave me alon
Your brother is the best
Who the fuck changed this from vampires to Danny devito
the real question is why I was completely ready to accept that this person had a debilitating childhood fear of Danny Devito
World Heritage Post
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A Horse power being only 735 watt is honestly so weird like that's not even enough to run a modern game on decent seatings
You wanna know what's fucked?
Your brain is a 25-watt computer.
Brain is 25% of your energy consumption, you burn about 100 watts of power (about 100 joules per second). You're a 25-watt computer.
I don't like that fact
No but for real. Your brain is one of the most advanced machines known to exist. It's a computer capable of running a sapient intelligence on - and I cannot stress this enough - 25 watts of broccoli and stew. What the fuck.
It's a cool fact it just makes me uncomfortable
so an average toaster runs at about 1200 watts, say it takes 5 min to toast bread thats 0.1Kwh. itd take 4 hours of brain power to toast it
Just connect multiple humans together matrix style
in the woods amongst my coven, 48 all in total, linking hands deep in concentration. our collective will united on our task of great importance for what feels like days but in reality scarce but a few minutes. in the centre of us lays a single slice of toast cooked to perfection
having someone love me to the point of turning me into a vampire so as to not lose me would fix me i think
