whenever I tell a story I feel like Uncle Colm from Derry Girls
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost

Discoholic 🪩
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

pixel skylines
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
sheepfilms

Love Begins
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
RMH
Show & Tell

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dirt enthusiast

Kiana Khansmith
Misplaced Lens Cap

JVL

Janaina Medeiros
AnasAbdin
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@solshika
whenever I tell a story I feel like Uncle Colm from Derry Girls
Saturn's north pole !
The hexagon is nearly 30,000 km (20,000 miles) wide. This is large enough that two Earths could fit inside the storm with room to spare.
It is a standing atmospheric wave created by a powerful jet stream that wraps around the pole. Winds along its edges can exceed 300 km/h (about 220 mph).
At the very center of the hexagon lies a deep, dark polar vortex that extends hundreds of kilometers down into Saturn's atmosphere.
Spacecraft/Mission: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SSI (Space Science Institute).
A typology quiz for the years 1500 to 1789. Thirty-four questions, thirty-four types—humanist, Puritan, philosophe, magus, salonnière, merce
babe wake up new quiz dropped
😭sweet dreams Thomas 🤣😭
this is your random reminder to CHECK IF YOU'RE STILL HAVING FUN
are you enjoying scrolling tumblr? watching youtube? reading that book? playing that game? drawing that art? doing that activity? if not,
YOU CAN STOP AND DO SOMETHING ELSE
you don't have to stick to something that you are doing for fun if it isn't fun for you anymore. You can come back! If you've loved it before you are likely to love it again! but you can stop!
Don't get stuck in a loop of doing something that you think should be fun when it isn't! You can put it down for a bit! Maybe that's the very thing that will make it fun again later!
them doing this because connor said he couldnt see hudson because of the too many flashes. they're so cute i feel sick to my stomach
Crystal Cove State Park, CA
35mm
please mr tierney he is asking so nicely
Island inside an island 2025
Text of tweet under the cut because it is loooong.
But... Stochastic Parrots.
it’s like looking at the creation of adam
Timothy Easton
1980, Black Silk & Sequin, “Firework” Gown, ASU FIDM Museum
The problems that irish or italian people have with most irishamericans and italoamericans isnt that they are trying to reconnect with their culture or whatever the problem is that they use their ancestry as a status of oppression that simply does not exist anymore in modern usa and that they overstate their cultural roots so much with so little care for the og mainland and the relatives they have here and the social issues of those mainlands that they just feel like they are larping. Also cant speak for the irish thing but often italoamericans will spout downright blood quantum that ends up only harming the actual immigrants in italy that have lived there for years and will be found saying shit like "ethnically italian" trying to be progressive while genuinely the only people in italy who say that italian is an ethnicity are neofascists obsessed with phrenology
thinking about how this started as a little gay show and now they’re here
smile - hollanov - @hollanovmicrofic - word count: 385 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3
Hayden's scoff could be heard all the way from the kitchen, causing Shane to pause as he got them both a drink from the fridge. "What?" he called, frowning, wondering what'd caused his best friend to be annoyed this time.
"Just can't believe it."
Confused, Shane grabbed a ginger ale for himself and a stupid energy drink for Hayden (but don't tell Jackie!) and padded back into his living room. "What, that we got our butts kicked? Because s-"
"No, that you're dating him," Hayden corrected, glowering at the TV screen.
And of course, there Ilya was, completing some interview, smirking and making lubricous comments about how Boston would wipe the floor with everyone else that season. He was in rare form, boasting about every goal he'd scored, every assist he'd made, chirping about Montreal and New York and any other team that dared get in his way. Shane, of course, felt a familiar curl of hot attraction light in his stomach, the desire to prove Ilya wrong just as strong as the desire to kiss him senseless. But still, it was hard to argue that Ilya was the sweet, thoughtful man he knew when he acted like this on TV.
But an idea occurred to him.
"No," he murmured, standing and moving to his bedroom.
He walked quickly, fishing in the back of the drawer in his bedside table for the lone polaroid shot, a risk he'd taken because Ilya just looked so perfect in the photo he'd managed to capture. It was an image of Ilya sitting by the lake, a carefree, boyish smile on his face. The angle was such that Shane's legs were visible in Ilya's lap, and Ilya's expression towards the camera was adoring, a clear reminder that for some reason, Ilya Rozanov was so in love with Shane Hollander that sometimes it burst from him like sunshine.
Shane treasured that picture more than anything.
He threw it towards Hayden, jaw set. "I'm dating him," he said firmly, gesturing.
And for a moment, Hayden's face changed. He took in the shot, the clear difference between Rozanov, star hockey player on the TV, and Ilya, Shane's boyfriend in the picture.
He softened just a little.
"Fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes and reaching to change the channel.
It was enough for now.