The Hatenna Iine does NOT have the energy to deal with your shit!
The very definition of vibe check
d e v o n

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Xuebing Du

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

izzy's playlists!

oozey mess
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
No title available
YOU ARE THE REASON
taylor price
i don't do bad sauce passes
almost home

JBB: An Artblog!

Love Begins
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Origami Around
$LAYYYTER

#extradirty
Keni

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@maxiemartini
The Hatenna Iine does NOT have the energy to deal with your shit!
The very definition of vibe check
dogs with jobs
WHAT. GOOD. DOGS.
guys remember when BTR and patchy the pirate from spongebob had a crossover
This looks like the start of a very questionable gay porno
Cat ownership be like
A challenger approaches
Fun Fact, thats, more or less, something that wealthy people in China and Japan did, they were called “musical floorboards.” Designed to squeak when stood upon. A person could make noise all the way down a corridor.
The residents and servants knew which floorboards made a sound and avoided them. But a burglar, or assassin didn’t. If you heard the creaking of floorboards, you knew danger was coming.
Even better, despite what movies may show, a lot of the old west was founded by Chinese immigrants, so there could have been carpenters around who knew how to make the musical floorboards!
Dude wealthy people from China and Japan were living in 3020 while everyone else was living in 1000
I love genuinely innocent “boys will be boys.” Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans they’d left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going “YOOOOOOOOOO”
I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.
I once lost my keys at a frat house.
My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch. Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out. I do not remember this part.
The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house. I stood there, right in front of the front door. This was a novel experience for me. I’d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.
A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing.
“I lost my keys in here last night,” I called back. “I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?”
He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.
“Go wherever you want.”
I’d never seen a frat house post-party before. Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light. A few of them threw puzzled glances my way. I’m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.
I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.
“Do you like dog movies?” he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.
I told him I did.
He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing. I told him I was looking for my keys.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen any keys around here.”
I didn’t doubt him.
Twenty minutes had passed. I’d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house. I’d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates’ forgiveness and get a new set copied.
As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.
“You need help with something?”
“I lost my keys here last night and I can’t find them, I’ve looked everywhere.”
“What do they look like? I’ll put it into the group chat.” He was already pulling out his phone.
No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell. It was worth a shot. “Um, it’s just a ring of keys. The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big. Like bright pink, you can’t miss it.”
He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.
“Alright, I sent the message out. Good luck.”
And with that, he turned and left.
A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering. It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder. One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.
“Someone tell the girl!” One of them shouted, faceless in the mob. “Girl! Hey, GIRL!!! We found your keys, girl!!!”
They circled around me. I hadn’t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old. One of them split himself off from the crowd.
“Are these -” he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, “your keys?”
And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Oh my god, yes.”
“EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
The cheer went up.
Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs. I thanked them again profusely. There was a scattered round of “no problems” and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.
Two-handed sword that belonged to the Bavarian Prince-Elector Maximilian II, 1689.
Source: https://imgur.com/fnRPbW1
What stat requirements do you need to use it
THE SWORD IN THAT LAST REBLOG IS SO MUCH BIGGER THAN IT LOOKS
Oh 50 Strength gotcha
“There’s no lasagnas back here. Somebody’s gonna have to die.”
Source
This video is both hilarious and unsettling
me: im depressed
neurotypical: have you tried yoga?
me: i have, yes. while i cant deny that it was certainly good for me to exercise at a point where its hard for me to make myself do anything at all, it didnt make me happy and usually just left me with less energy
neurotypical: have you tried to just be happy?
me: yeah. i went weeks pretending i was happy to convince myself and those around me that i was feeling better, but this made me feel miserable and vulnerable because the seeds of my depression lie in several different areas of stress which, while pretending to be happy, were not resolved.
neurotypical: i see. im sorry i couldnt help.
me: it’s ok, depression is a complex topic and the steps it takes to fight it can vary wildly depending on the person. its next to impossible to get the magic cure for it in a single conversation. i appreciate you taking the time to share some things that have helped you in the past in hopes that i might be able to use the information too. regardless of its direct usefulness for me specifically, i thank you for your time and for caring.
Wow this is so wholesome and not at all how I expected it to go
Same. A lot of people aren’t informed on depression so it’s not fair to get angry with them when they are just trying to help. I know it gets tiring to hear the same things over and over but still
The only real question
todays mood is making out. I want a tongue in my mouth right fucking now
The Do’s & Don’ts of eating sushi ...
her friend is so embarrassed they’re never ever having sushi again
4k notes and I’ll buy that ugly ass fucking voltron backpack and deadass use it at college
GUYS. 14K. DO IT NOW DONT FAIL ME.
there’s nothing purer or better than how much kids enjoy being picked up and then hurled at soft surfaces
anyone who’s ever been around kids for ay meaningful amount of time should know exactly how much kids long to be hefted up and then just fuckin tossed! it’s so good! they’re so excited to get fucking tossed around like a sack of potatoes it’s so pure