What If Instead Of Tumblr.com It Was Called Tumblr.freak And We All Got Freaky With Eachother

fave exes lol

(just 2 exes turned pseudo siblings rizzing everyone up)

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FINALLY. AFTER 2 WEEKS OF PROCRASTINATION LOL

today’s lectionary texts—acts 5:27–32, psalm 118:14–29, revelation 1:9–11a, 12–13, 17–19, and john 20:19–31—are so densely interwoven it’s practically rabbinic. it’s the second sunday of easter, which historically functioned as a liturgical echo chamber for the resurrection. but today’s selections aren’t just liturgical filler—they’re deliberate theological architecture. acts 5:27–32 put you into a post pentecost context where peter and the apostles, fresh off their spirit induced empowerment, confront the sanhedrin. the line “we must obey god rather than men” (δεῖ ἀνθρώποις πειθαρχεῖν μᾶλλον ἢ τῷ θεῷ) is almost a second century anachronism. it anticipates martyrdom theology, rooted in texts like daniel 3 and 6, but also anticipates justin martyr and tertullian’s apologetics. it reframes civic disobedience as divine allegiance.

psalm 118 functions as a hinge text. it's the last of the hallel psalms (113–118), used during passover, which already overlays a liberation motif onto resurrection. “the stone the builders rejected” (v. 22) gets picked up in matt 21:42, mark 12:10, luke 20:17, and here again as a kind of post easter hermeneutical key. the rejected messiah becomes the cornerstone of a new ekklesia. it's also worth noting how this psalm was used in second temple processionals. what begins as royal liturgy becomes political protest. revelation 1:9–19 layers on the apocalyptic. john of patmos positions himself in exile “because of the word of god and the testimony of jesus”—a deliberate mirroring of the acts narrative. christ appears “like a son of man” (ὅμοιον υἱὸν ἀνθρώπου), drawing straight from daniel 7, but recoded with roman imperial aesthetics: golden sash, bronze feet, sword mouth. it’s not just christological—it’s anti imperial polemic. domitian’s empire is the beast; the risen christ is pantokrator. then john 20:19–31. locked room. fear. sudden appearance. peace (εἰρήνη ὑμῖν), said twice. jesus breathes on them—enephýsen—an echo of gen 2:7 and ezek 37. this is a new creation moment, a new adam breathing life into a new humanity. and thomas, often unfairly dubbed “doubting,” functions more like a johannine stand-in for the reader. he gets to touch the wound (typos), an embodied epistemology. and yet, the final beatitude—“blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed”—extends the narrative beyond history into faith. the whole text folds time like a chiasm. so yeah. today is about post resurrection defiance, counter temple theologies, radical reinterpretations of jewish liturgy, imperial subversion via apocalyptic aesthetics, and an invitation to epistemic humility. it’s theology as resistance literature.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) The Falcon and The Winter Soldier (2021) Thunderbolts* (2025)

OSCAR SAYING TO GEORGE "DONT GET YOUR BANANA TOO CLOSE TO ME" 😭

me reading fandom drama while eating expired ramen

Ngl I totally forgot fandom discourse was a thing. I don’t care man, I have car payments

how do you feel about boot riding 🤭

────۶ৎ boot ridin’

joel lets you grind on his boot and watches you fall apart. slow, dirty, and all him.

warnings: smut, boot riding, clothed grinding, degradation (light), praise kink, dom!joel.

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you plant yourself right there on his thigh, all needy and breathless, the heel of his boot solid under you. he's leaning back, forearm draped over the back of the worn-out couch, one brow cocked and that smirk playing on his lips like he already knows you’re about to fall apart just from grindin’ on him.

“boot ridin’, huh?” he drawls, voice all low and amused. “s’that what you’re callin’ it now, darlin’? looked more like beggin’ t’me.”

you whimper, rockin’ slow, the rough leather pressin’ right where you need it most. your panties are soaked, stickin’ to you, and you can feel every goddamn ridge of his boot sole with every shift of your hips.

he watches, hungry. doesn’t touch—not yet. just watches, one hand curled into a fist against his thigh like he’s holdin’ back.

“yeah, that’s it. make a mess on me, baby. all over my boot. fuckin’ filthy girl.”

you bite your lip, grind down harder, faster now, chasin’ that sharp edge that’s burnin’ hot in your belly. he leans in, finally, fingers curling around your throat—not tight, just enough to feel him there, firm and grounding.

“feel good?” he murmurs, eyes flickin’ down between your thighs. “can feel that little cunt twitchin’. know you wanna cum.”

you nod, mouth open but no words, just pantin’ like he’s got you on a leash. his thumb brushes your jaw, rough and calloused.

“go on. cum for me, sugar. make it count. wanna see that pretty pussy flood my boot, ruin it.”

and fuck—you do. it hits like lightning, rippin’ through you as your thighs shake and you moan his name, louder than you meant to. he groans low, like he felt it too, and finally lets his hand slide up between your legs, fingers strokin’ through the mess you made.

“jesus,” he mutters, voice gone gravel. “you ride better’n a goddamn cowboy.”

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thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

the russos have committed so many sins but i might just forgive them if they have bucky in this wig for doomsday

are they scouting for their next victim???

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my wet specimen💓💓💞💞💞💞💖