deleting files makes me so scared what if i Needed That

its fascinating how very very surface level 1920s-ish jazz age inspired aesthetics are very popular (see: hazbin hotel and electroswing and the endless wave of bowtie pinstripe character designs from the 2010s) but the vast vast majority of people who are into that seem fundamentally disinterested in actually engaging with actual jazz age art and culture because that would require engaging with black art

yeah

if i have to bench nclair im blowing myself up btw. literally the funniest unit of all time yeah we keep him tied up in the back of the bus with gore videos playing on his stupid ipad like some actual clockwork orange shit until he starts tweaking hard enough to roll perfect on his skill 3. we literally all stand around him and go nightmare nightmare nightmare nightmare

heathcliff is it okay/normal if our evil mirror selves are doing um. something

A.S.H.E.S

Artistic Suffering Hinders Every Soul

I love Ryoshu...

"people in real life: hey man how's it going" is a killer phrase. instantly neutralizes whatever insane discourse you find online. gonna start using that from now on

i don't know guys i kinda like this one

Life is so round all of the time

I would let her chew on me

I want her to do things to me with that axe in a way throat is concerning to feminism

OH MY

Internet mobs will be like "why doesnt anyone just ADMIT when theyre WRONG anymore??!!" and then treat someone like they deserve the death penalty because they said something off-colour on twitter when they were 14

No one will admit that they were wrong if you treat being wrong like its an eternal indictment against them with no chance for rehabilitation

not to be insensitive but some of the salem witch trials were so funny bitches like “i saw her at the devils sacrament!!!” girl… what were YOU doing at the devils sacrament 👀

the gifs i find on this website... you guys are art curators

I love my fath– I’m so big what the fuck. So naturally I chab-, challenged his murderer to a 𝒹𝓊𝑒𝓁. I failed. The six-fingered man left me alive! …but he gave me these. How old were you? Ffive years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of ᶠʳᵉⁿᶜʰ… Fencing. So the next time we beet, I-I will not fall… fail. I will go up to the six-fingered man and say! 𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸. My name is Indigo MontoyyyyyyA….?? You k- you killed my father. Prepare to die, heh.