A weirdo that's got a growth disorder. Tries to charm girls but fails unfortunately frequently and uses very inappropiate words in class.
by cool panada November 30, 2021
Get the Williammug. Lily Williams is an individual. She is surrounded by 5/6 friends but has one really close friend who she probably lives super close to. She has a signature scent of vanilla and has the most beautiful freckles placed evenly on her cheeks. She’s the type of girl that wears her red heat damaged hair half up half down every day. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her as she can be very intimidating. Lily Williams are beautiful yet they can be snarky and charged.
by yourbrilliance12 May 15, 2023
Get the lily Williamsmug. William is such a caring, lovely, handsome, humorous, and amazing guy! He is that one friend who would absolutely make your day. He has such an amazing smile, amazing laugh, gorgeous eyes, you name it! If you ever feel down in the dumps, always go for Will! If you ever feel ill, call for Will! He'll always be there for you. AND! He would make an amazing boyfriend and husband. Will would fulfill you anytime, anywhere! Just to make you happy! :D And of course, chill with the Wills. >:)
Girl 1: I feel lonely.. I just don't know who to call..
Girl 2: How about your "friend" William? ;)
Girl 1: Oh shi girl yeah you right... William always makes me happy, thanks bestie, slay..
A lot of hours later:
Girl 2: How was it?
Girl 1: .....amazing.
Girl 2: How about your "friend" William? ;)
Girl 1: Oh shi girl yeah you right... William always makes me happy, thanks bestie, slay..
A lot of hours later:
Girl 2: How was it?
Girl 1: .....amazing.
by i drank your house July 19, 2022
Get the Williammug. by Niki B. January 1, 2022
Get the Ted Williams Tunnelmug. Slang for someone who is always sick and can't swim. Sometimes confused with some who has the AIDS virus.
by AlfTheGoat January 27, 2024
Get the William Holdermug. William Shakespeare: Hamlet.
QUOTE:
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
QUOTE:
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
by John Geometry TM October 6, 2025
Get the William Shakespeare: Hamlet.mug. 