No title available
No title available
art blog(derogatory)
Discoholic 🪩
$LAYYYTER
DEAR READER
KIROKAZE
Andulka
Product Placement
JVL
occasionally subtle
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
blake kathryn
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
One Nice Bug Per Day
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
i don't do bad sauce passes
Kaledo Art
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Morocco
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
@unexpectedalchemy
trying to explain to people that the cursed amulet and i have genuinely bonded. we are PALS now. "the fact you don't want to take it off is proof it's controlling you" i want to keep wearing it bc im enjoying hanging out with my buddy. not everything is nefarious. we're doing girl time
if i had one wish, my one wish, would be to be a demon monster girl
Let’s all traverse this scary blood tunnel with a growth & change mindset
positive thinking never didn’t kill a gore ghost
this would all be a lot simpler if i could just menu->status->check stats
items->use->sinister_potion
drunk witch vibing, creating a thotty homoculus in a bubbling cauldron: premarital sex, 100 gecs. dollskill haul in the mail, snails and puppy dog tails. bone dry puss, snap score = sus. fuck the weed man for an edible, say his dick game incredible.
tiny homonculus giving her best angles in her 30$ boohoo clubwear fit:
I wrote a eulogy
"I wrote a eulogy for my best friend last week. Then I read it to him. At the pub. On a Tuesday."
He was alive, holding a pint, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I have.
I'm Mick. I'm 70. The man across the table was Barry. Seventy-two. Best mate for 46 years. Met on a building site in 1979. He dropped a plank on my foot. I called him something unrepeatable. He bought me a pint after the shift. Haven't gone a week without talking since.
Three months ago we went to a funeral. Bloke we'd worked with. Cancer. The eulogies were beautiful - people saying what he meant to them, things they'd clearly never said to his face. And all I could think was, he can't hear any of this.
Every beautiful sentence. Every "he changed my life." Said to a room of crying people and a box of wood.
I turned to Barry. Whispered, "What a waste."
Drove home. Couldn't sleep. Because I realised, if Barry died tomorrow, I'd stand up and say extraordinary things about this man. Things I've never said in 46 years. And he'd be in the box, missing all of it.
So I wrote them down. Took a week. Harder than expected - not finding the words, but admitting I had them.
Rang him. "Tuesday. The Crown. Need to read you something."
"Have you joined a book club?"
"Just come."
Same corner table. Pint of bitter. Crisps. I pulled out the paper. He saw my hands shake.
"Mick. What's this?"
"Your eulogy. I'm reading it now because I'm not wasting it on a day you can't hear it."
"Have you gone mad?"
"Probably. Shut up and listen."
I read it. In a pub. To a man very much alive and very much uncomfortable.
I told him about the plank and how it was the best injury of my life. About the night he drove forty minutes in rain to help change a tyre. About how he rang every day for three months after my divorce and never once asked "Are you alright?" - just talked about football and weather, because he knew I didn't need a question. I needed a voice.
I told him he was the funniest man I'd ever known and his jokes were terrible and both things were true. That he'd been a better father than he thinks. That his wife's a saint and he knows it. That I'd have been a worse man without him.
He didn't look at me. Stared at his pint. Jaw tight. Doing that thing men do when the feelings arrive and they'd rather swallow glass than show it.
When I finished, long silence. Then he picked up his pint, took a sip, and said,
"You're paying for the next round. And the one after."
That was his answer. Perfect. Because Barry doesn't say "I love you too." He says "you're buying."
But in the car park, he hugged me. Not the quick back-pat. A real one. Thirty seconds. Neither let go first.
And he said quietly into my shoulder, "Don't read that again at the real one. I want new material."
Who would you write a eulogy for - while they're still here?
Don't wait. The flowers can't hear. The box doesn't laugh. Say it now. At the pub. Over a bad cup of tea. You'll feel ridiculous.
They'll look uncomfortable. It'll be the most important thing you've ever done.
Read them the speech while they can still hug you in the car park.”
.
not only am i a sexual pervert but i enjoy various wicked poisons
idc about fluoride in the water supply im petitioning my congressman to add a drop of that mysterious green fluid that emits a ghostly green skull when you put it in
just one☝️drop a week could turn everyone sickly
boss, is this stuff supposed to make pink smoke hearts?
wuhoh
i basically dont have any fire arrows
my thrall told me it wanted to be more independent so i imprisoned its soul in a necklace. how's that for in de pendant you little shit
someone is putting up pictures of me around town and they all say I’m ‘wanted’. which is nice
bwahahahah! oh disheveled homunculus, you know just how to make me laugh, you disgusting freak
Srry thats just my ancient evil you can just put it on the floor anywhere
are you eating poisons? deadly poisons? and youe didnt share? can i have some of your poisons. Can i have some of your deadly poisons
dogs when youre eating chocolate or grapes
[clearly flustered, about to cry, and out of any other arguments to make] well good luck proving that when the abyssal serpent swallows you and your stupid hometown
Dont die because once you do uoure under my command lol
