himejoshi

[himejoshi]

expect my 2 hour lore video on the hitherto undiscussed latin bat outer god within the week

[himejoshi]

one of my favorite images rn

[himejoshi]

horsethoughtbarn 5 name

if horses werent called horses what do you think they should be called

[himejoshi]

angel feather ruffle

[himejoshi]

the insane experience of missing a fictional character . like you can always go back and reread the book , replay the game , rewatch the show or movie , you can always go back & see them , but you can never experience them & their story for the first time again . its absurd to miss them because they'll always be there , but you'll miss when there were still new things for them to say .

for a small time they were real & growing and changing and you hung onto every new word, but now all they can do is repeat the same story forever&ever & they're not real anymore because you know everything they're going to do. & you miss them. its fucked man...

[himejoshi]

I get how the whole "listening to music as a dick-measuring contest for who can listen to the most obscure band" thing can get grating sometimes but I don't think people realize just how vital that phenomenon is for new up and coming bands to get a foot in the door. it's understandable to be annoyed by hipsterism but unless you want all music to be industry plants and former child stars you're just going to have to accept it as part of the social ecosystem.

[himejoshi]

I found the OG depressed Suigintou image that I had only seen edits of before. 2009-04-25 https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/4007094

[himejoshi]

I took my little brother (autistic, mostly non verbal) out and he was using his voice keyboard to tell me something, and this little boy (maybe 4 or 5?) heard him and asked me "Is he a robot??" I tried to explain to him that no, he isn't a robot, he just communicates differently, but my darling brother was in the background max volume "I am robot I am robot I am robot I am robot"

[himejoshi]

[himejoshi]

(XユーザーのLumierさん: 「#Arknights #アークナイツ #明日方舟 https://t.co/R7h53mpgBO」 / Xから)

[himejoshi]

*puts a disk in u*

[himejoshi]

[himejoshi]

Warm Bulb by Clue Perfumery

I’m sorry. I really am. I hate to take up so much space on this wonderful webpage, but I feel that it is my duty to provide an honest, transparent review and doing so requires that I give a little background information regarding the first time I came across this singular, potent juice.

When I was younger, I collected hundreds of oak galls over a period of several years. If you’re not familiar with these arborous anomalies, they are spherical growths that can occasionally be found on oak trees. I won’t go into all of the slimy details about their formation, but I will say that wasps and chemicals are involved.

As a youngster, I found these galls alluring unlike any other naturally occurring orb. They captured my imagination and, in return, I captured them and kept my specimens in a disused dumpster which I found behind a burned out restaurant which was down the street from where I used to live. I never did get an exact count of all of my galls, but I can assure you that it was well over three hundred at one point.

I was quite proud of my collection and would often try to impress my schoolmates by showing them my hidden bounty. Unfortunately, I was often met with ridicule and scorn and more than once did I find myself being tossed into my dumpster full of galls by a particularly ornery classmate who had found my incessant gall-based boasts to be distasteful. I shan't blame them for their actions. After all, we were only children and I am deeply irritating most of the time.

Sometimes, after having been bludgeoned about and thrown into the gall dumpster, I would sit quietly inside and wait for the one who had tossed me to tire themselves out by laughing at my expense and then leave so that I could escape without any further thrashings. If it was an exceptionally warm day, the interior of the dumpster would take on a very unique, comforting odor. It never smelled like rubbish or garbage inside. I had spent three whole weeks carefully scrubbing and sanitizing the interior of that steel receptacle before I dared placing my first gall within its hungry jaws.

The smell was indescribable, but I will do my best to describe it to you now. It smelled like a very warm metal container filled with oak galls, both old and new. If you do not know what that smells like, then I highly recommend purchasing yourself a dumpster, filling it with galls during the warmer months, climbing inside, and taking a big, hearty whiff. It’s really something.

I was recently in my hometown and I attempted to visit the crumbling remains of the restaurant where I had spent so much time as a child only to find that it had been completely razed. This saddened me to no end, but miraculously, I was able to find the storied dumpster of my youth which had been nearly overgrown with brambles and tall grasses. I had an intense urge to get inside and see if any of my precious galls remained.

Unfortunately, I was unable to do so because as I was tearing the thorny vines from the exterior of this sacred tomb, an armed security officer clubbed the top of my head with what I assume was an improvised sort of nightstick. I collapsed and let out a mournful wail. The security guard told me to remain motionless and I did not disobey his command. Through my tears and over my sobs, I was able to make out that he was radioing for backup. I asked him why he had hit me but he did not reply. I attempted to stand, but I found that I was unable to support myself.

Upon seeing me try to get up from the tangled mass of brambles into which I had collapsed, the guard again brought his club down onto my brain box, splitting it open and leaving me in a state of horrible darkness and silence.

I was finally roused from my cudgel-induced sleep when a full bucket of filthy mop water was dumped onto my head and into my mouth. Choking, gasping, disoriented, and in extreme anguish, I begged for my assailant to stop drowning me. After a few minutes, I was able to right myself and I saw that I was still on the ground in the decrepit lot of the demolished restaurant. There was nobody near me. My hands were bound behind my back with a great mass of looped brambles which I was able to loosen only after a great deal of effort.

It was evening as I stumbled toward my hotel. Upon entering the lobby, I heard a woman gasp and then shriek. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I looked quite dreadful and I don’t blame the woman for reacting as she did when accosted with my wretched visage. I turned to her and apologized, but she just screamed and screamed. I took a step toward her as I hoped I might be able to explain how I came to look as I did, but she quickly turned and ran out of the building, dropping her purse in the process. I picked up her purse and attempted to chase after her so that I might return it to her, but my throbbing head and trembling legs prevented me from doing so.

As I reentered the hotel, I too dropped the long gone woman’s purse and, unfortunately, I heard something shatter. I picked up the purse and peered in to find a broken bottle of Warm Bulb by Clue Perfumery. Knowing what sort of luck I often have, I did not want to keep the purse in my possession lest some constable accuse me of assaulting and robbing the poor woman to whom it belonged so I quickly turned it over to the front desk staff at the hotel.

As I did so, I somehow managed to get some of this intensely odorous elixir into the many bleeding gashes on my hand. I rushed to my room and washed the burning fluid from my sores. As of now, I am not able to provide an exhaustive account of how it smelled, but I can assure you that it is extremely painful to get Warm Bulb by Clue Perfumery into any sort of gaping wound.

[himejoshi]

@kisaragi9a

ゴルシ産がとりましたか やはりゴルシ

[himejoshi]

[himejoshi]

at the insane stage of character obsession where i start getting the urge to post pngs of them every five seconds like im showing ppl a picture of my stupid ass boyfriend that nobody likes but me