Greece in paint.
Three Goblin Art

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
will byers stan first human second

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON

JVL
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Sweet Seals For You, Always

⁂
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
hello vonnie
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

izzy's playlists!
taylor price

★
occasionally subtle
Cosmic Funnies
seen from United States
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@boyandapple
Greece in paint.
Stand in line, shadows / Stand in line, shadows.
Danish flags and dog poop
One of the weirdest traditions we have in Denmark is that we put miniature versions of our own flag in dog poop. I’m not kidding. This is seen as a kind of passive aggressive message to the dog owner that they should clean up after their dog. Pictures in links, because your feeds should remain poopless.
Little poopie with flag [x]
Person putting a flag in a poop [x]
Eventually do a google search for “flag lort”
Thought of you as my mountain top / Thought of you as my peak
Ain’t you tired of standing there? / Our eyes met, gone was your prayer.
She has no gender / Thus sleeps on the left.
Scars don’t grow, dull morals lies her low.
Rainy night in Copenhagen
Living
So. You're in a room. Everybody you love - or even like - is in this room with you. The walls are red and they’re serving your favorite drink.
You are so loved within this room. Dressed appropriately for the mood you are in, the room is collectively loving you. And even worse, caring for you.
There is a lot of care for you.
But we suffocate you with our care, don't we? The walls are bleeding, aren't they? They're bleeding and the drinks are blood too.
No.
They don't get it.
It's velvet. It's paint and the drinks are fine. They're great, actually, and you appreciate their love and their care.
Your boots are unrelated, but they're so dusty. They can sleep in the rose bed.
That's how it is. You're in this room, everybody loves you, everybody cares for you, they’re trying to figure out what is wrong. But nothing is wrong. Everything is right. Everthing is.
Life is but a choice.
She died in her home / Seventy-six years and crazy.
Grow up / It would suit your pretty face and fucking mind.
O, pretty girl, mascara on / Grip your chance, our night is young.
Her darkened theater display me bound / And can I really turn to your breach of trust?
Spread for the wind Photo of Anton Jarlskov//boyandapple
You're such a tease!
And they dressed you up so gaudy / The wrinkles tell your story.
Skin slit open, a glimpse of hope / If only God had been a woman.